


An Unfinished Life

by choldubh



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Jim Moriarty, Alpha Mycroft, Alpha Sebastian Moran, Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Greg Lestrade, Captivity, Causing Crimes, Consulting Criminal, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Consensual Relationship, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Bonding, Forced Relationship, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kidnapping, Lestrade Can't Catch A Break, M/M, Minor Character Death, Moriarty is Moriarty, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Omega John, Physical Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shock, Solving crimes, Some Not Very Nice People, Teen John Watson, Young Sherlock, consulting detective, not for a while though, omega rights
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-01-05 01:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12180273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choldubh/pseuds/choldubh
Summary: Life had dealt John a bad hand; living on the streets was rough, surviving out there as an omega was unheard of, but John had made it work. He helped other omegas, banded them together and kept everyone safe. They grew close, they grew strong. They were happy.Then, omegas started going missing. They left no trace, no bodies ever turned up.  They were just gone. And there was nothing anyone could do about it.One by one, their numbers dwindled until there was only a handful of them left.Then, John was taken. He woke up in a bathroom he had never seen, disoriented and handcuffed to a pipe. He didn't know where he was or why he was there, all he knew was that he would have to escape before he learned first-hand what had happened to the others.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I just wanted to give a heads up that this is quite a dark story and the first chapter absolutely will not ease you into it. If that's your thing, great! If you're unsure, do read the tags because I have definitely committed to them. 
> 
> For the first part of this story, it's going to be exclusively John/Sebastian and the second part will involve John/Sherlock.
> 
> Also the title is from the film "An Unfinished Life" which has absolutely nothing in common with this story
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

John Watson pulled desperately against the cuff connected to the thick bathroom sink pipes. The steel cut into the soft skin near the bone of his wrist. A pained whimper slipped passed his lips and he froze. His gaze shot over to the door. When no one entered, he re-positioned. With dogged determination he pushed his feet against the wall, adding greater force to his frantic attempt at freedom. He pushed until pain made him dizzy.

John moaned, slumping down and giving up. His wrist was bleeding messily over the stark white tiles and the pipe hadn’t budged. John’s chest heaved.

John had awoken in this bathroom, bare and unremarkable, not long ago. He had been left on the floor with his hand cuffed to the sink pipe and with no idea of his own whereabouts or the reason for him being there. Oh, he knew what had happened; as little as he understood it—or wanted to think about it. John remembered flashes of that giant, hulking man emerging from the shadows. He remembered those huge calloused hands catching him and the embarrassingly brief struggle before a rag stinking of chemicals was forced over his mouth and nose. He remembered the sound of the man’s voice as he spoke, moments before John blacked out—and he shivered at the memory of it—but he couldn’t remember the exact words. John was sure he didn’t want to know, but the terror of the mystery surrounding his purpose there must surely be worse.

God, his wrist ached.

Shaky fingers fluttered over his abused wrist and recoiled. His wrist was on fire, pain radiated up his arm from the barest touch, but the damage didn’t seem to be irreparable yet. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, John steeled himself for what he was about to do. He shuffled slightly, head bowed and took a few more quick breaths.

“One…Two…” John muttered. He paused, tensing his whole body, closing his eyes. “…Three.”

John lurched backwards, tugging with all his might. Pain erupted from his wrist, stars sparked behind his closed eyes. He grit his teeth. He swayed with sudden nausea and vertigo. Still, he pulled, forcing himself to keep going.

The pipes suddenly jerked and John almost stopped with the shock of it but he continued, desperately aware this could be his only chance of survival. His shoulders were hurting now, screaming at him to stop. His wrist was slick with sweat and blood and the handcuff was slowly working down the widest part of his hand.

A sudden, hot rush of hope. He needn’t break the pipe if he could slip the cuff off…

His arms and legs shook but John kept pulling.

He opened his eyes and his vision was blackening. John kept pulling.

It was only when a short cry of pain had unwillingly slipped passed his lips, John lurched to a stop.  His free hand shot up to his mouth, muffling the last syllables. John again listened desperately for signs that someone had heard him, his eyes back on the door.

He waited. Thirty seconds, a minute, two minutes.

No one came.

John wheezed out a relieved breath, thanking any and every god he could think of. He examined the pipe and his wrist. Neither had permanent damage. John would have to fix that, one way or the other.

With one more momentous effort, John heaved, putting everything he had into his desperate attempt to escape. He didn’t notice the bathroom door open until he heard that dreaded voice once more.

That laugh…

John flinched and skittered back until his handcuff caught tautly on the pipe and arrested his retreat. He stared wide-eyed and frightened at the man in the doorway. Tall and hulking in his brutish physique, the man leered down at him with a fascination that made his skin crawl. John was suddenly aware just how close his heat was. With it only days away and the stress of the situation, no doubt he was stinking of pheromones and distress. No alpha would be able to resist.

And this man was definitely an alpha.

A whimper rose in the back of his throat involuntarily. The alpha lurched in response, the laughter dying on his lips. He hurried towards John.

He hunkered down in front of John, only a few feet away.  “Shh.” He soothed. “You’re okay. Let’s have a look at you.”

“Get away from me!” John demanded, voice cracking. He tried fruitlessly to scramble away.

The alpha chuckled loudly.

“D-don’t laugh at me!” John growled, heat rising on his cheeks.  

The alpha reached towards him but John lashed out, kicking with a snarl. His foot smacked against the alpha’s chest but the man barely grunted. He grabbed John’s leg and yanked the smaller body towards him. John’s head collided with the tiles and he was left breathless, shocked and dazed, before realising he was being gathered into the man’s arms. He kicked and hit out, fighting back as hard as he could. His movements weren’t strategic, they were desperate and terrified, purely instinctual and, apparently, easily oppressed.

The alpha pulled John into his chest and tucked his head under his chin. He restrained John’s flailing limbs with embarrassing ease in what could only be described as a bear-hug. John writhed and twisted but his movements were limited by the alpha’s easy hold. The alpha waited patiently for the struggling to subside. He didn’t have to wait long.

John’s resistance gradually abated, with heaving, distressed breaths. In the following quiet moments, he slowly became aware of the alpha rocking him gently, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Numbly, John recognised it as a technique for calming distressed omegas.

He was too tired to care.

The alpha laughed again.  “You’re a scrappy little thing, I’ll give you that.”

“What do you want with me?” John asked wearily.

The man moved, reaching behind himself to pull out a small key from his pocket. “You’ll see soon enough.” He said, unlocking John’s handcuff.

Before John could reclaim his arm, large fingers wrapped around his hand and with surprising care, the alpha examined the wound, turning his wrist this way and that.

John hissed.

“Well it would hurt after all that, wouldn’t it?” The alpha muttered in response.

“Why am I here?” John asked again, wincing as soon as he had spoken.

The alpha was quiet for a moment, he buried his nose in John’s hair and sniffed. John struggled, attempting once more to get away, deeply unnerved by this alpha’s behaviour.

 “Come on. We might as well get started.”

The alpha got to his feet, dragging John along with him towards the door. John dug his heels into the floor, trying and failing to resist. He heard his runners squeak against the tile as he stumbled forwards unbalanced in the alpha’s grasp. Out of the corner of his eye, John saw himself pass the mirror and realised how awful he looked. How frail and vulnerable he appeared with his pallid complexion, perspiration and the dark circles under his eyes. He looked pathetic next to the muscled, six-foot man who was dragging him out of the room.

“No!” John shouted. He ripped his arm from the alpha’s grasp and dived for the bathtub, latching onto a railing on the wall, hooking his arms around it.

The alpha clicked his tongue. “None of that now.” He admonished, putting his hands once again on John. He tugged lightly, testing the resistance. “Come on, let go of that.” The alpha said, voice firm.

“No. Tell me why I’m here. What do you want from me?”

The man’s hands were still on him, moving on his body like they had a right to touch him. John shrugged once, twice, to displace them but to little avail. He didn’t want to jeopardise his hold on the railings so he had to bear with the unwanted touch. The man’s thumb mindlessly stroked John’s shoulder as he took time to consider how best to answer. Eventually, he did.

“Let go of the railing and I’ll tell you.” The alpha said.

John shook his head. “Tell me first.”

Behind him, the man huffed in frustration.  “I’m going to bond with you.” He said.

If he had hoped John would loosen his grip with his confession, he would be sorely disappointed. John’s grip tightened. “I’m not—” He was going to say ‘not an omega’ but that would fool no one at this point; John was sure he was reeking of omega distress hormones. “I’m not in heat. You can’t bond with me. And I bloody well wouldn’t let you even if I was!” John snarled over his shoulder.

The man leaned in close behind him, his body flush against John’s. He shuddered when his captor’s hands roamed over John’s vulnerable stomach. The alpha’s lips were at his ear.

“There is nothing in this world I love more than a feisty omega. I can’t wait to have you purring under me, begging for my touch. I’m really going to enjoy taming you.”

John choked down a whimper. “Stop.” John pleaded weakly. “Please. Don’t. Please, just let me go.”

The man laughed breathily.  “Too late for that, little omega; I’ve had my eye on you for some time.” The hand on his stomach crept up his chest and rested over his throat. The grip tightened. “So,” his captor continued, “either you let go now and come with me into the bedroom or I choke you and drag you in there unconscious.”

John stiffened in horror. Regardless, he slowly shook his head. “No.” He said, but his voice was quiet and wavering. It sounded meek and pathetic to his ears.

“Your choice.” His grip on John’s throat immediately tightening.

John coughed and spluttered as his airways were compressed. He shook his head and reared it backwards but the hand followed and the grip only tightened more. His lungs screamed for air. His vision blurred and blackened.

He was going to die--he was going to die--he was going to die--oh god, he was going to die!

John’s hands flew up to pry off the fingers from his throat.  Immediately the grip relaxed and he was permitted to breathe again. He doubled over and wheezed as his abused throat forced air into his desperate lungs. The man’s arm slunk around him once more, holding him up.  John’s legs shook so violently he had no choice but to accept the support from the alpha. He hugged John to his chest and gently led him out of the bathroom. Dazed, John followed, still focused on breathing.

“I’m not in heat.” John mumbled into the man’s chest. “You can’t bond with me outside of heat.”

A hand ruffled his hair absent-mindedly.  “There are ways to change that.” The man promised quietly and they entered a bedroom.

John was going to ask what he meant by that but then it hit him. Like running face-first into a wall, John was assaulted by the smell of a distressed omega in heat. An omega other than himself.

He jerked back, out of the alpha’s hold and looked around frantically. There, sitting on the bed looking as wide-eyed and traumatised as John felt, was a woman, an omega, in heat. She was handcuffed to the bedpost, naked and trying to gather the bed sheets around her for modesty. She locked eyes with John. Her alpha was there too, handcuffed to the leg of the bed on the other side, tugging at his bonds wildly, half-crazed with desire for his mate and the threat of another alpha in the room. The man wasn’t quite lost to instinct but he had an animal edge to him that had John instinctively shrink back into his captor’s waiting embrace.

The mated alpha at the bed blinked and a look of horror crossed his face when he saw John. “Christ…” The man gasped. “He’s just a child. Let him and my mate go. They have nothing to do with this.”

Their captor laughed, producing a gun and aiming it at the man. “Admirable, but no. This is going to happen and you are going to let it. The only chance any of you have of getting out of this alive is by playing along. Otherwise, I’ll slit her belly open and feed her lady parts to you.”

John’s breath hitched in terror. He thought he might throw up. The captive alpha and omega couple stared in equal horror.

“I’ll bond with you.” John said before he realised the words were out of his mouth. “Just let them go and I’ll bond with you willingly.”

The alpha looked down at him, then shrugged.  “You’ll do it anyway.” He said and looked away. “Now. Stay put or you will regret it.” The alpha ordered him.

He wandered over to the bed and released the couple. They rushed to each other and embraced, the omega letting out a sob and the alpha looking close to tears. The captor sauntered back to John, who stayed rooted to the spot, not out of obedience but fear. That hand returned to John’s shoulder, making itself at home. John gulped and let out a shaky breath.

“Now, you’ve been a very bad boy, Mr. Merton and Moriarty is very disappointed in you, sending that remedy formula to the government just like we warned you not to.”

“I’m sorry. Please, Sebastian, I’m so sorry. Tell Moriarty I’ll never do it again. Please just let us go. Oh god, please.”

The alpha, Sebastian, laughed in response. “That’s not in my job description, I’m afraid. Moriarty hires me for a reason, you know, and it’s not to accept apologies... But, luckily for you, I’m feeling generous tonight. See, I’ve got my new little mate here,” he shook John’s shoulder affectionately, “and I’m eager to start into him. Now, that gave me an idea; let’s mix business with a little bit of pleasure, will we?”

John had to swallow down the contents of his stomach. He met the horrified eyes of the other two captives and he couldn’t bear to think about what their captor might mean. The man continued.

 “My mate’s young, see. Too young, really, to know what he’s doing. You two are going to teach him. Put on a show for us and I’ll let you live. Show my mate what a true heat is.”

The female omega sobbed loudly, burying her face in her alpha’s neck. “You sick bastard!” The captive alpha, Merton, snarled.

Their captor shrugged. “Sick or not, you and your pretty little mate are dead if you don’t.”

John watched in horror as the couple debated among themselves. He could just about hear her mutters of denial and his convincing whispers. Eventually, John saw the woman nod tearfully. The bed clothes fell from her limp grasp. Her body was revealed to the room.  John turned his head away in embarrassment and a vain attempt to allow the woman to keep some shred of dignity in this retched situation.

Their captor responded to John’s tiny rebellion with a rough pat to his cheek that startled and stung. “Watch.”  He said. “Watch, or I’ll kill them.”

John glanced up to the alpha, disbelieving. The man wasn’t joking. “I—”

“Hush and do what you’re told.” Sebastian said, eyes trained on the couple, the gun still held firmly in the air.

Scared, John’s eyes reluctantly trailed over to the couple. Merton was laying his quietly crying mate onto her back. He leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips, muttering assurances.

The alpha had started jerkily taking off his own clothes when John was urged backwards, pulled by the grip on his shoulders as his captor seated himself on a chair behind them. John was then dragged down to sit on the man’s lap.

He keened and twisted but Sebastian held him tight.

“Don’t stop!” Sebastian barked over at the couple who had halted at John’s cry.

Reluctantly, they resumed, throwing the occasional fearful glance his way.

“Watch, little omega.” The whisper tickled John’s ear.

John shook his head but did what he was told, too afraid of the consequences. The couple on the bed started touching each other, awkwardly at first but then more confidently and feverous as the heat took over and the alpha went into his responding rut. Instinct began to drive their actions. Touching and kissing and sucking and biting. Longing moans and excited grunts.

John’s stomach was queasy. His mind was addled. His body was on fire.

Despite the depravity of it all, John’s body was responding to the scene and scents in the room, as was the alpha whose lap he was forced upon. John could feel the man’s hardened member as he was tugged even closer so their bodies were flush. Sebastian’s hands snuck under John’s shirt and wandered over his stomach and chest, pinching his nipples and stroking the smooth skin.

“Stop!” John breathed out in despair, grabbing uselessly at the unwanted hands.

John felt the deep rumble in the alpha’s chest as he began to laugh quietly.

“Shhh. Just watch.” He nibbled at John’s ear and moved down to his neck. “Let the heat take you, I know you’re enjoying the show.”

“N-no, I’m not. Let me go!” John pleaded, his voice whining as he strained against the man.

The couple before them were rutting now, the alpha giving long, slow thrusts into his mate. The omega arched her back and dug her nails into the alpha’s shoulders, moaning wantonly and begging him to go faster, harder—just to give her _more_.

“Oh yes you are.” The words were whispered in John’s ear as Sebastian’s hand wandered down between his legs and began kneading the heated, hot flesh there.

John’s legs would have been buckled had he been standing. Instead, he fell back onto the hard body behind him, gasping, head lolling back on the man’s shoulder and exposing his throat in an unconscious omegan gesture of submission. The alpha took full advantage and mouthed at the column of flesh, teasing with a scrape of teeth.

The couple on the bed were gasping in rhythm to their accelerating thrusts. The bed was starting to creak. John couldn’t see them, his eyes were closed, but the noises were equally incendiary.

He didn’t know when he had started thrusting his hips searching for more friction but as the moans of the couple on the bed intensified, John felt himself ready to burst.

He was so close. He was almost there. He was coming. He—

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

The world flashed bright and the sound… God, the sound…

John threw his hands up to his ears on instinct, muting the sharp pitch of damaged eardrums. Confused, it took John a few disorienting moments to realise what had just happened. When he did, his whole body went cold.

The gun was in the alpha’s hand.

John looked in the direction the gun’s muzzle was pointed.

The couple on the bed had stopped moving.

There was blood on the white sheets.

A bullet hole in each. The head of the alpha. The chest of the omega.

Dead. Both dead.

John tried to scream but his voice caught in his throat. His breath hitched, gasping. Lashing out mindlessly, John scrambled off the alpha’s lap to run away. His legs buckled and he fell onto his hands and knees, retching miserably. He hadn’t much in his stomach to begin with but after he had expelled the contents onto the carpeted floor his body continued to heave. John sobbed pathetically between wheezing breaths, staring down at his own sick on the carpet.

It was shock, his mind numbly supplied, he must be in shock.

His arms started to quaver. John shook his head and slowly sat back on his legs. He stared down at his shaking hands. He was vaguely aware that the alpha was moving around the room but John wasn’t sure why and he couldn’t summon the energy to look around. He closed his eyes, denying his reality.

It was with the lack of visual stimuli that John became aware of what was happening in his own body. Despite the trauma, the strange fever inside of him had not abated. Disgusted with himself, he realised his body was going fully into heat. Desire wracked through his body and he shuddered at the shiver of want which consumed him. John sobbed loudly at perverseness and unfairness of the situation, the violation of his own body’s reactions.

Maybe the sound had summoned him or maybe it would have happened anyway, but the alpha appeared then, hands landing on John’s shoulders before drifting down and encircling his chest. He lifted John up, holding him securely against his body before lowering him down with surprising gentleness onto a thick duvet laid out on the ground a few feet away.

John whimpered with need as the alpha broke contact and when John looked around to find the reason, he was once again confronted with the horror in the room. The couple lay entangled in each other. The alpha’s body had fallen to the side but the omega’s wide, glassy blue eyes were staring straight in front of her, directly at John with a look shock and pain. John crumpled in despair, tears clouding his vision. Suddenly, the alpha was back, brushing the tears out of John’s eyes and dragging his knuckles over John’s heated, rosy cheek.

“Don’t worry.” Sebastian said. “I won’t hurt you.”

Sebastian had taken his shirt off and was now bare chested, his belt opened and his fly undone. He hunkered down beside John, blocking the tragic scene from view.

“Sorry you had to see that.” The alpha said, slowly moving forward and pulling down the zip of John’s hoodie. John swallowed uncomfortably and looked away. He was too overwhelmed by shock, exhaustion and an alien desire, to continue fighting. His whole body was shaking as the alpha popped open the buttons of his shirt.  “You had to see it though.” Sebastian continued as he slipped the shirt and hoodie off of John’s shoulders. “It could take months for a bond to occur naturally and I can’t wait that long.”

The shirt was tossed away and the alpha gently coaxed John to lie back onto the duvet. He soothingly stroked John’s flank, smiling slightly when John’s eyes flickered up to his before he averted them submissively. The alpha’s fingers trailed to John’s belt.

“Scenting another omega’s heat can induce heat-like symptoms.” He opened the belt. “Trauma can induce a full blown bonding heat if there’s an unmated alpha nearby.” He unclasped the zip on John’s trousers tooth by tooth. He rested his hands on John’s hips. “It’s a survival instinct, you know; submit to the threat to appease it. Now, normally I’d just use drugs to force a heat but there can be problems with bonding through artificial means. Trauma, though, trauma cements a bond.”

John blinked at the cruelty of the alpha’s actions.  “What?” He asked, emerging from his stupor.

 An easier bond? All of this was for an easier bond?

What the hell was he doing here, submissively taking this?

John snarled and kneed the alpha squarely in the balls. The alpha roared in pain, clutching his testicles. John scrambled to his feet and, eyeing the door, made a run for it, stumbling in his haste to escape.

His fingers skimmed the handle before he was tackled from behind. Strong arms shoved him into the door, stunning him and then he was viciously flung backwards onto the ground. His body rolled with the force of the attack. Winded, John groaned, struggling to get up. The alpha was immediately on him, shoving his face into the carpet.

John heaved with rage.  “You bastard!” He snarled into the carpet. “You sick fuck!”

Sebastian laughed breathlessly. “Oh, I just know you won’t disappoint me.” He leaned in and kissed John’s neck.

John’s skin crawled…and his temper flared higher. He flung his arm behind him, catching the alpha’s cheek. The alpha grabbed both of John’s arms and held them one-handed over John’s head. When John felt his trousers get tugged down his legs, he returned to spitting and snarling out curses at the alpha, furious and disgusted at his attacker.

“You’ve fought well, little omega,” Sebastian said, breathing heavily, “But this is over. I’ve won. Stop fighting and you’ll start to enjoy this quicker.”

“Fuck you!”

Even as John denied the man’s words, the heat was building in his body and, horrifyingly, as the man reached under John’s hip to caress the warm flesh there, John’s hips ground against his hand. He whined when the hand left his flesh moments later and he lay still, panting, as he heard the brief rustle of clothing being awkwardly removed with one hand.

“No!” John cried with a jerk against the hold on his arms.

The alpha returned his attention to John. He hiked John’s hips up, forcing him onto his knees with chest on the carpet. Sebastian covered John’s body with his own and when John felt the man’s hardness against him, he groaned longingly. He shook his head in denial but he was already instinctively pushing back, seeking more friction. The heat washed over him, flooding his brain with desire. John was vaguely aware that he hadn’t wanted this only moments ago but as his want increased, his mind clouded and he struggled to remember why he had fought so hard. More and more his instincts took over and by the time the alpha was positioning himself for entrance at his backside, John was lost to the sensations.

“Please.” He moaned as the man teased him, shaft in hand, trailing it around John’s entrance, gathering up the natural lubricant there. John hadn’t even realised he was wet until that moment.

Sebastian snorted with amusement. “Whatever my little mate wants.” He said.

He slowly, slowly pushed against the little ring of muscle. He entered easily and both he and John groaned as he moved inch by inch until he was fully sheathed. The alpha leaned over John, hands rubbing up and down his body, a low pleased growl rising from the back of his throat.

John whimpered and wiggled, straining to push harder against the alpha, encouraging him to move. Sebastian hummed heatedly and started to shift his hips, slowly thrusting into John as he licked and nipped at John’s neck and shoulders. They were passed the point of kissing now, lost in the hormones of John’s heat. Sebastian too, was lost to his rut, too pumped full of his own hormones to stop even if he had wanted to. The only fear John had now was that the alpha might.

Sebastian changed the angle of his thrust and John saw white. He mewled, arching his back in pleasure. The alpha growled, encouraged by the response and intent on replicating it. His thrusts changed in rhythm to faster, shorter thrusts hitting that spot again and again. John could feel his pleasure building, the alpha seemed to be reaching his end as well. They moved together sensually, sweating and covered in each other’s scents.

He cried out in pleasure and bared his throat as he climaxed. He heard the shout of completion from the alpha behind him and sharp sting of a bite to the junction between his shoulder and neck. The pleasure intensified and John’s whole body contracted with the white hot climax that engulfed his body.

The alpha’s bite deepened as he shot his seed deep inside John. John felt the heat rushing into him and groaned as the alpha’s knot rapidly filled out and plugged him. Sebastian loosened his jaws and released John from his bite. John’s head collapsed onto the carpet, exhausted. His eyes were fluttering with tiredness as the alpha slowly licked and kissed the bite wound in an instinctive attempt to heal a bonding mark.

A bonding mark.

He was bonded now. To this man.

They were bound. And they were still…connected.

Oh god…

John’s sudden tears choked him. He wept, sobbing wretchedly.

“Shh…Shh… There now. You’re okay. You’re overwhelmed by the bond, that’s all. You’ll feel better after you rest.”

The alpha rolled them over so they were on their side, with John encircled by the man’s arms in a parody of a lover’s embrace. The man hiked his leg over John’s own to keep him from jostling the knot that still connected them together.

John’s eyes were covered by the alpha’s hand. “Sleep now.” Sebastian said, kissing the top of his head. “Sleep.”

John wanted to defy the order but after everything that had happened, exhaustion was taking over and he found himself slipping easily into blissful darkness. His last moments of consciousness were of the alpha gently wiping the tears from the skin under his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Detective Inspector Lestrade blew out a lungful of air in frustration. He was standing in the middle of a crime scene, a double homicide, and he was counting down the minutes before his superior started breathing down his neck for answers.

Andrew Merton and his omega mate, Jennifer, were members of high society and their untimely deaths had become very public, very quickly. Merton had just last week announced his discovery of the chemical basis for a remedy to the more unpleasant symptoms of omegan heat. Although still in its early stages, the remedy was promising so much for omega rights already. This was the first time in history anyone had even come close to something that would allow omegas the ability to live full, hormonally healthy lives while easing all of the symptoms of a heat. ‘Fertility with civility’ was the tagline, if Lestrade remembered correctly.

The world had celebrated Andrew Merton’s name since the announcement; no longer would omegas be forced to go on unhealthy suppressants or deal with unquenchable lust every three to six months. Just pop a tablet as soon as the symptoms started and feel them ease away to nothingness. There had already been countless discussions from omegas in the media speaking about independence from alphas, being able to control their own lives and no longer being discriminated against in the workplace because employers didn’t want to pay for heat leave. This was going to be a revolution for all omegas, a start to true civil rights for everyone regardless of their dynamic.

Or, at least it should have been, but now Andrew Merton and his mate had ended up on Lestrade’s front door.  Or rather, Lestrade had ended up at theirs and he was guaranteed no sleep until this was solved. The only problem was, evidence was sparse. It was obvious this crime was completed by a professional.

“Hey! You can’t just come in here!”

The shout came from outside the room from Sally and before the person even entered, Lestrade groaned, knowing exactly who it was. Barging into the room, stormy and chaotic, was the young drug addict alpha with friends in high places, Sherlock Holmes. As usual, Sherlock appeared like a hurricane. His eyes scanned the room as he strode in, ignoring Sally behind him and Lestrade in front.

“It’s fine, Sally, let him stay.” Lestrade said with a sigh.

Sherlock brushed passed him, striding across the room and disappearing into the bathroom.

“You can’t keep letting him onto crime scenes.” Sally complained, appearing at the doorway.

Lestrade nodded wearily. “You know him, he’ll come in anyway. Besides, we could use the help this time.” He said. “Keep an eye outside, would you?”

Sally looked like she wanted to argue. She sighed angrily and shook her head but she followed her orders and left the room.

“Find anything, Sherlock?” Lestrade called out.

Sherlock’s head popped out from the doorframe. “Plenty. Honestly Lestrade, don’t they teach your people to think in Scotland Yard?”

“Go on, tell us what you found, then.”

Sherlock jumped back into the room, smirking, his eyes alight. Lestrade’s natural inclination was to disallow a twenty-one year old onto a crime scene but Sherlock Holmes, he discovered, was not a typical twenty-one year old and his brother was not a typical government official. After a covert car journey one night, it became very apparent that Mycroft Holmes was not to be denied. His request had been a simple one; allow Sherlock onto his scenes, consult with him, and do everything in his power to keep the boy away from drugs. Thankfully, the thrill of the game seemed to fill Sherlock’s every need. Lestrade only had to check in on Sherlock during slow times when crime was low and Lestrade needed to make sure Sherlock didn’t die of boredom or from forgetting to eat.

“Those two,” Sherlock announced, pointing to the murdered couple on the bed, “don’t interest me, even you can figure them out; shot, killed, with a Glock, probably. No, I’m more interested in the third victim.”

“There was no third victim, Sherlock.” Greg corrected.

“Wrong. You, as always miss everything important in a crime scene.”

Greg folded his arms. “Alright then.” He said with a due sense of resignation.

“The two on the bed, a simple bullet killed them both, there…” He pointed to his head and then moved his finger to his chest. “…and there. Obviously. They were mating at the time. She was in heat, but it was forced.”

“Forced? How do you know?”

“The tear tracks have dried mostly by now, obviously, but the broken vessels in her eyes suggest stress… or strangulation, but since there are no marks on her throat, that option has been ruled out. There are bruises on her wrist, no doubt from a handcuff and here,” Sherlock moved to the headboard, tracing the smallest of grooves with his fingers, “is doubtlessly where she was bound to the bed.” Sherlock straightened moving down to the other end of the bed on the opposite side.

“The alpha also has similar bruising on his wrist, though to a greater extent, and here,” he showed another groove on the leg of the bed to Lestrade, “is where he was bound. I suppose, you could argue it was a game, some bedroom role play or some such, but if so, where are the cuffs now and why would they both fight so hard against them? While we’re asking questions, why would they be on opposite sides of the bed, too far away to touch each other? Touching is the point of a heat after all, or so I would imagine.”

Lestrade nodded. “I imagine so.”

“And then, of course, there’s the question of the man watching.”

Lestrade nodded again and then stopped. “Wait, what man? You mean the murderer?”

“Of course. Judging by the angle of the bullet wounds and by the leftover indentation marks on the carpet over here,” Sherlock walked over, pointing out the four points on the carpet which must have been flattened by a chair, “the murderer would have sat—probably on that chair in the corner—and watched the whole event. Obviously, there’s no way they wouldn’t have known he was there, even in darkness the point where he sat would have been at least partially illuminated by the street lights from outside. Ergo, he forced them.”

Greg nodded, most of this he had suspected already. “Okay, all of that makes sense. What about this third victim though?”

Sherlock grinned. “Well, that’s the best part, isn’t it? Can’t you smell it, Lestrade?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t surprise me, my sense of smell has always been particularly astounding. And you, of course, are only a beta.”

“Get on with it Sherlock,” Lestrade warned.

“There are two scents in the room. Hard to differentiate, I admit, but there’s the female omega’s scent, full of fear and heat and then there’s another. It’s a stronger in distress than it is in heat and it’s all over the carpets.”

“That’s not enough to go off though, I can’t go back to the yard with that.” Greg pointed out.

Sherlock huffed. “As if that’s all. Follow me.” Sherlock stalked away into the adjoining bathroom. Lestrade followed.  “Now, obviously the murderer cleaned the scene before he left but he missed a few things. You’re lucky I’m here Lestrade, none of your idiot team ever would have found them.”

Kneeling down beside the sink, Sherlock gestured to the pipes which looked a little worn but not at all out of place.

“What am I looking at here, Sherlock?”

Sherlock stopped. “How dull your mind must be.” He marvelled. “The wearing pattern on the pipe is what happens when metal is forced against it or pulled, the effect is more apparent from the other side and, as you can clearly see here, the pipes have been pulled from their fixtures on the wall.”

“They’re not broken though.”

Sherlock scowled. “No, obviously this person didn’t have the chance to break it fully. But see here; flecks of blood between the pipe and the wall. I’d say most of it has already been cleaned off but the murderer must have missed this.”

Lestrade leaned in closer to peer into the narrow space between the wall and the pipes. Sure enough, there were tiny flecks of blood. “I’ll have them sent to the lab for analysis.” He said.

Sherlock nodded. “From here we can assume the murderer uncuffed the omega and brought it into the other room. There’s a scuff mark on the tile over there. Typically, that’s the kind of mark you’d get from shoes with rubber soles.”

Wandering back into the bedroom, Sherlock continued his explanation. “From the carpet by the bed you’ll just about see some staining, it’s been cleaned but there’s still some evidence here and here.” He gestured loosely to two spots on the carpet.

“What is that?” Lestrade asked, hunkering down to get a better look, placing a marker on the carpet.

“Vomit, it looks like. And over here, again it’s been cleaned but there are clear traces of ejaculation on the carpet.”

“What the hell happened here?” Lestrade grimaced, standing up.

“Isn’t it obvious? No, of course not… The scent of an omega in heat can trigger a heat in other omegas. And trauma can cause an even more intense heat which primes omegas for bonding, it’s a survival mechanism to save themselves from alpha predators. Now, I may be wrong—though it is incredibly unlikely—but judging from the vomit on the floor and the fact that he was clearly being held captive in the bathroom, I’d say this omega was traumatised.”

Greg Lestrade was quiet for a moment. He put his hands on his hips. “Christ…” He muttered.

“I doubt it.” Sherlock responded, wandering over to examine the carpet nearer the door. He looked around and then back down.

“So, if this guy was forcing a heat, why not just use drugs? Seems simpler than all this.”

“Doesn’t guarantee a proper bond. He clearly wanted to make sure it stuck.”

Greg took a moment to let that information sink in. “So we’re dealing with two crimes here. But how are they connected? The Merton’s didn’t have any young, unbonded omegas close to them.”

Sherlock stood up, fixing his coat and frowning. “I’ve heard some rumours, on the streets, about omegas disappearing. I’ll ask around, see if my network knows anything about it.”

“Hmm, okay, that leaves us with the question of why someone would want the Merton’s dead.”

Sherlock shrugged. “Like I said, that doesn’t interest me.”

“Sherlock—”

Sherlock spun on his heel and stalked out of the room.

Lestrade watched him leave in exasperation. Hurricane Sherlock had come and gone. He turned back to the crime scene “Anderson,” Lestrade called out, “you can come in now. He’s gone.”

“Oh thank Christ.” Anderson said, walking into the room. “I really hate that pratt.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get to work here.” Lestrade said.

 

\--

 

Sherlock hurried through the streets, pulling the collar of his coat up high to protect against the cold.

There were rumours on the streets of a gang of omegas who had banded together to protect each other. It seemed farfetched but throughout the exaggerated whispers passed from mouth to mouth, a few details always stayed true. Supposedly, there was a single omega, young, but strong, a natural leader, who had taken it upon himself to start this gang and recruit other homeless omegas.

Omegas did not do well on the streets. If they weren’t attacked or killed from suicide or drugs, as soon as their first heat hit them they were raped or forced to go into omega shelters where they would be immediately reported to the authorities and sent into care. Omegas were no longer forcibly married off by the government but the care homes were scarcely better; there had been a lot of reports about abuses in these facilitates emerging lately.

Still, the fact that these young omegas had banded together was interesting to Sherlock and that they had survived successfully on their own on the streets made it all the more intriguing. If the rumours were to be believed, of course.  If anyone knew about disappearing omegas, Sherlock imagined it would be the leader of their little gang. He passed by a girl begging on the street and as he walked by her, he dipped his hand into the cup full of coins she carried, snatching out a sheet of paper. He continued on his path. Opening the paper, Sherlock read the name of a street. Now useless to him, he discarded the paper on the ground, veering left across the road and changing his course to Bucket Lane where it was rumoured, the omega gang was currently situated.

Bucket Lane was in a run-down area. It had seen better days but was hardly the worst part of London Sherlock had ever been too. Indeed he usually woke up from drug-induced stupors in worse places than this. He wandered down the road, looking for a suitably dilapidated building.

…And there it was; a perfect hideout for a gang of street kids.

The building was sandwiched between two much bigger buildings. It would have been a factory, years ago, but now it was just a hollow shell with its windows boarded and its front door chained closed. Judging from the rust on the lock, it was clear that the doors hadn’t been opened in some time. So how were they getting in and out?

Sherlock wandered around the building to further inspect it. He had almost travelled entirely around it when he found what must have been the entrance.  A small hole in the wall, difficult to reach on its own but if Sherlock moved over the rubbish bins and stood on them he could easily squeeze through the hole.

Once he was inside, Sherlock had to squint to make out his surroundings. In the dark room, it would be easy to assume this place was entirely abandoned, however, Sherlock’s keen deductive abilities immediately highlighted all the evidence of disruption. He saw the footsteps in the dust and the scuff marks on the sides of the wall. He was in the right place.

Confidently, he strode through the abandoned building, passing through the rooms. Eventually, he was met with a terrified squeak. He spun to greet the sound.

A young omega, maybe eleven or twelve, cowered in the corner, looking for all intents and purposes like he thought Sherlock was going to eat him.

“Are there more of you here? I want to speak to whoever’s in charge.” Sherlock demanded.

The child stared at him in terror, mouth agape and voiceless.

Sherlock supressed a frustrated sigh. “Oh for god’s sake…Look, I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to ask a few questions.”

“How the hell did you get in here? What do you want?” A sharp voice behind him demanded angrily.

Turning, Sherlock saw another omega, older this time, maybe sixteen or seventeen. Her arms were crossed, trying to appear intimidating. Sherlock was not in any way intimidated but he appreciated the effort.

 “Are you in charge? I have questions I need answering.”

“Questions about what?” She asked with hostility.

“The rumoured disappearances of omegas.”

The omega’s eyes widened. “Who are you?” She asked, softer this time.

“Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. So if you’ll kindly bring me to the person in charge, I’d like to speak to them.”

The omega’s eyes narrowed. She seemed to debate her answer.

“John’s not here. I’m Emily, you can speak to me.”

“Where is he?”

“Tim, go into the back and see if Annie needs help with the dinner.” Emily addressed the younger omega who looked altogether too delighted to leave. He bolted out of the room as quickly as he could.

Emily licked her lips once they were alone. She moved in closer to Sherlock, though still very wary of him. “John and one of the others, Sam, disappeared yesterday evening. They were going to pick up suppressants but they never came back.”

“So it is true… How many in total have been taken?”

The girl sighed. “Too many. There’s been at least eight that I know. I’ve heard stories of a lot more than that though.”

“Have you heard of any bodies turning up?”

“No.”

“Nor have I, so it’s likely they’re alive…” Sherlock muttered. “How long has this been happening?”

Emily pursed her lips. “About six months now—that I know of anyway. When it started happening John brought us all together for safety. It was his idea to keep an eye out for each other. He found this place and we started inviting anyone we came across to join us. We all work together, we live together, we look out for each other. John made these rules for our safety and we take in anyone who wants to live by them. It’s worked too; we kept everyone safe, nobody has ever been taken…before now, I guess.

“If John has been taken…I don’t know how we’re going to manage. I’m trying to keep everything together but John was the leader, not me, and everyone is so afraid. I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them weren’t already planning to turn themselves into the authorities. It’d probably be better going back to their own shitty circumstances or foster homes than to end up in whatever situation the abductions might lead to.”

Sherlock shrugged. “If that’s what you want to do then do it.” He said dispassionately. “If you decide to stay I might be back. I’m trying to get to the bottom of this.”

If Emily was disgruntled by Sherlock’s lack of empathy, she didn’t show it. She nodded. “Thank you. If I can help in any way, I will. They’re just kids; they’ve had it hard enough as it is, they shouldn’t have to go through anymore.”

Sherlock wasn’t interested in that. “I’ll see what I can do.” He said as he lifted the collar of his coat, turned and left the omega’s hideout.


	3. Chapter 3

His alpha’s full name was Sebastian Moran.

John learned this soon after he was taken back to the man’s apartment and with every day that passed, the name Sebastian Moran settled more and more into his soul and filled him with hatred and fear.

The bond had taken. And stuck. There was no getting away from it.

His alpha’s name was Sebastian Moran…

Weeks had passed since he had been taken and John was in the bathroom of Sebastian’s apartment, sitting on the edge of the bath, fully clothed and hunched over with his head in his hands. His eyes were clenched tightly shut and John was trying everything in his power to stop thinking and just _breathe_ for God’s sake.

It wasn’t easy; anxiety nestled snugly in his heart and rose up as bile in his throat. John fisted handfuls of his hair and whimpered between clenched teeth. Images flashed behind his eyelids. Painful memories of his early days in captivity were never far away and were always hard to control.

John’s mind took him back to his first day in Sebastian’s apartment.

\--

_Four weeks earlier…_

John had woken up from his post-bonding sleep almost a full day after the ordeal. As wrung out and emotionally exhausted as he was from the situation, he was astonished that he had woken up at all. He was in Sebastian’s apartment, in the man’s bed, awoken in response to the alpha’s padding footsteps entering on the lush bedroom carpet.  

Sebastian smiled down at him when he saw John blinking awake.

John jolted at the danger this man posed. He scrambled out of bed, stumbling and stopping when a wave of dizziness overcame him. He shot a hand to his forehead, grimacing and frozen mid-escape.

“Easy now.” Sebastian said gently, approaching him. “You’ve been asleep for a long time. You’ll need a minute to come round.”

“No, stay back.” John said, taking a quick step backwards.

Sebastian stopped, holding out his opened hands to John as if he was dealing with a startled animal.

John shook his head to clear it. He tried to get his head straight but the more he tried, the more tangled the thoughts became. He breathing quickened. The abduction, the handcuffs, the heat, the murder, the bonding. It all flashed before him. He hadn’t had time to process anything. He was bonded. Bonded.

“You bit me.” John whined, hand moving from his face to his neck, fingers brushing over the fresh bonding mark. He hissed at his own touch.

Sebastian’s lips peeled back into a pleased grin. “Yeah.”

“I feel sick.” John whispered.

“It’ll take some getting used to.” Sebastian said, mildly sympathetic. He took a step closer. “But you’ll come round. Just give it some time.”

He’ll come round? He’ll come _round_? As if John hadn’t agreed with the colour of the curtains or the style of the couch? As if this was just some tiny issue? As if this man hadn’t just abducted him? Murdered people? Forced him to…to…

“You kidnapped me!” John snarled. “You forced me to… You brought me here. I didn’t want this. I was just minding my own business and you, you…”

John stopped.

He really hadn’t had any time to process what had happened to him. He was so freaked out when he woke in that bathroom that he had barely thought of anything but escaping. But now, John considered what had happened to him when he had been kidnapped and, more importantly, who had been with him.

“Where’s Sam?” He demanded. “What the fuck did you do to him!?”

John was floored by a sudden, violent blow across his face. Shocked, he gaped up at the alpha from his place on the ground, holding his aching cheek with one hand.

Sebastian glared darkly down at him, anger simmering dangerously underneath his skin. “You do not speak to me that way.” He warned, pointing down at John with the same hand that had struck him.

John sneered. He stuck out his chin stubbornly. “Fuck. You.” He bit out.

Sebastian growled. He kicked John in the stomach.

John cried out, curling into a ball, wheezing.

Sebastian descended on him, grabbing him by the back of the neck, hand over his bonding mark. Squeezing the mark, John went limp, unable to fight against Sebastian’s domineering touch. He breathed laboriously as he stared up helplessly at his mate.

“Apologise.” Sebastian commanded.

John glowered up at him, body jerking with a fit of coughing.

Sebastian shook John painfully. “Apologise.” He demanded darkly.

John hissed spitefully but he yielded when Sebastian tightened his grasp. “I’m sorry.” He bit out. He didn’t sound sorry at all, but Sebastian didn’t seem to care; he released John from his hold. John curled back into himself in pain.

Sebastian watched dispassionately. “I’m going to be very fair with you.” He said, levelly. “I’m your alpha, I’m going to treat you well, but I’m going to make sure you respect me. Is that clear?”

John closed his eyes. He nodded reluctantly.

“Good. Come on, get up.” Sebastian helped John to his feet, guiding him to sit down on the bed he had awoken from mere minutes ago. He inspected John’s face, gently tracing the blooming bruise with his fingers.

John flinched back, out of the touch.  “Where’s Sam? Please.”

Sebastian sighed. “That omega who was with you?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Not sure anymore. There’s a lot of very lonely alphas who would pay a small fortune for an unbonded omega. He’ll have been sold off to someone by now.”

“Jesus…” John breathed. He slapped Sebastian’s hands away and shot to his feet, backing away from the alpha. “You--you’re sick.”

“I saved you from that.” Sebastian growled, prowling towards John. “You should be thanking me.”

John shook his head. “You’re fucking mental if you think I should be grateful for what you’ve done.”

Sebastian lunged. He shoved John hard against the wall, grabbing his throat and holding tight.

John gasped and spluttered, his throat still sore from the last time Sebastian had choked him. There wasn’t much pressure but the memory was unbearable, terror gripped John. He whined and struggled against the hold.

“I know you’re feisty, I like that about you. What can I say, I’m a sucker for a fight.” Sebastian told him lowly. “But you and I are going to reach an understanding right here, right now. I’m going to say this nice and simple for you—and trust me, it’s in your best interests to listen. I own you.... I. Own. You... I found you, I took you, I bonded with you. You’re mine. You got that?”

John grasped the hand around his throat, eyes wide, disbelieving.

“Now, we can pretty this up, we can pretend this is equal and that you have some rights in this situation but let’s face it; this isn’t equal and you don’t have any rights. From now on, anything you have, anything you do, it’s because I allow it. If you don’t agree with that—tough. I’m stronger than you, I can beat you until you change your mind. I have all the power here. Do not forget that… So, are you going to be good and let me be nice to you? Or do we have to do this the hard way?”

Sebastian looked at him evenly, calmly meeting John’s panicked gaze.

“Well?” Sebastian asked when John didn’t speak. “You should know, not answering me is still an answer.”

“I…uh, I…” John shook his head. “I don’t want you to hurt me.” He said meekly, his fingers still picking at Sebastian’s.

“So you’re going to be good?” Sebastian asked.

John nodded reluctantly.

“You’re not going to fight me?” Sebastian continued.

Ignoring the spike of hatred that shot through him, John took a breath and said; “No”.

Sebastian released John from his hold. “Good.” He said. “I’m glad you decided to be smart about this. Welcome home.”

\--

Only, John had not been smart about it. He’d been an idiot. John hadn’t appreciated how honest Sebastian had been with him that day. He couldn’t have known how dedicated the alpha was to honouring the promise, or how thorough Sebastian was in everything he did. John had fought back at every step for almost ten days but Sebastian had not lied. He had beaten the fight out of him and now, John was cowering in the bathroom, breaking out in a cold sweat at the thought of the alpha.

_Buck up. Get a hold of yourself._

The voice in his head was strangely similar to Sebastian’s and that just made it all the worse. Regardless, John slowly began to calm his breathing, gathering himself and his thoughts, preparing for what he would need to do.

“In thirty seconds,” John muttered under his breath, “I’m going to stand up. I’m going to look in the mirror and make sure I look okay,” _because Sebastian hates it when I look scruffy_ “and then I’m going to open the door and leave the bathroom.”

_Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight..._

From there, John wasn’t sure what he’d do. He supposed he could make the bed, which would give him something to do and it would keep him away from Sebastian who was lounging in the living room. In truth though, John didn’t want to be anywhere near the bedroom when Sebastian was in the apartment, in case he gave the man any ideas. But then, Sebastian also didn’t like when the apartment was messy and it was John’s responsibility to keep it clean. But Sebastian also didn’t like it when John avoided him for too long either.

_Sixteen, fifteen, fourteen..._

John wasn’t sure what he should do; he couldn’t handle another punishment from the alpha right now. John had learned to pick his battles; he’d never survive if he fought against everything the alpha wanted.

_Ten, nine, eight..._

And if there was one thing he did know in this horrible, confusing situation, it was that he _had_ to survive. He _had_ to get away and somehow, he _had_ to make Sebastian Moran pay for what he’s done. Not only to John but to Sam, to the countless people he must have hurt or killed.

_Six, five, four..._

Every night John still saw images of the murdered alpha/omega couple when he closed his eyes. He hasn’t slept properly since Sebastian took him. John’s hands shook constantly, his heart hammered in his chest in his every waking moment. The only time John _ever_ felt any sort of calmness or peace was, paradoxically, when he was in Sebastian’s arms; the bond calling strongly and Sebastian forcing him into an artificial serenity that only surged John’s own self-loathing and disgust.

_Three, two, one..._

John stood up, determined. Pain shot up through his leg at the motion. John ignored it. He limped over to the mirror and checked himself. He smoothed down his hair and nervously adjusted his jumper. Then he turned, opened the bathroom door and, taking a deep breath, staggered through it.

Inside the bedroom he decided to quickly fix the sheets and leave the bedroom, conscious of the sounds of Sebastian moving around. John knew he wouldn’t be able to cope with Sebastian coming in to him. He could only just about handle this whole situation if he felt he had some control over the situation. As John staggered into the living room, he halted, his instincts both telling him to flee from, and to move towards the man sitting with his back to him on the couch.

The living room was the centre of Sebastian’s apartment. At the other end of the room was a second bedroom, to the left was the corridor that led to the front door, to the right was the kitchen. The couch Sebastian was sitting on was one of two, placed in front of a television.

Sebastian was busy with something, John couldn’t quite see what, but his heavily muscled back rippled with the motion of both arms moving. If John didn’t know better, he’d say Sebastian hadn’t realised he was in the room.

In fact, he was willing to bet his life on it.

John’s eyes flickered over to the right, looking through the open door that led to the kitchen. He could see the cutlery drawer from there. A dark thought crossed his mind as he glanced back to Sebastian. His eyes flickered back to the drawer. It was usually locked when Sebastian was out of the apartment but he was here now, so maybe it was open?

Twelve steps.

That was all it would take.

He’d have to be careful removing the knife from the drawer but once it was in his hand—even if Sebastian did hear him—he might at least have a chance against the older man.

John didn’t realise he had stopped breathing until his chest began to burn. Then, with great care to not make any noise, he let out the air he had been holding.

His foot lifted off the ground when Sebastian spoke, startling John out of his deadly trance. “Stop hovering and come over here.” Sebastian said without turning from his work.

Anxiety trickled down John’s spine. Had Sebastian just noticed John was there or had he known all along? How was John supposed to escape from someone who never let their guard down? Taking one last glimpse at the knife drawer, John swallowed a disappointed whimper and followed his alpha’s orders.

He limped over to the couch, shaking his head at the sound of his movement. His clothes rustled and his foot dragged. Even if Sebastian hadn’t known he was there, once John moved he would have immediately. Foolish of him not to consider it; he’d have to be smarter than that. Smarter and not so impulsive. He’d have his chance one day, he just had to be patient.

When he approached, John saw what was in Sebastian’s hands.

Sebastian had disassembled a gun, leaving stray parts on the coffee table in front of him. In his hands was the base of the gun a cloth streaked with black oil. John couldn’t be sure if it was the same gun he had seen that night weeks ago when Sebastian had shot the couple but it glistened sinisterly in the light just as the other had. Sebastian loved his guns and he looked after them well. This was not the first time he had cleaned one in front of John but John had been so addled with grief and physical pain before to really pay attention.

Sebastian stopped what he was doing and placed the gun on the table. He reached over and grasped John’s arm, coaxing him to move closer and sit across his lap. Sebastian’s arms encircled his body and John picked mindlessly at a stray thread on his shirt. The alpha pressed a kiss to his temple.

John would survive this. But to do that, he knew beyond anything else that he should never, ever fight Sebastian’s affections. Besides, this wasn’t the worst thing Sebastian could do to him and, despite himself, there were times when he enjoyed it. Being held so closely to his mate, the bond thrummed happily between them. John’s hands rarely shook when Sebastian was holding him and the anxiety that left a constant state of queasiness abated for a while. Even though the artificial feelings were forced upon him, John took comfort in having a few minutes where breathing didn’t feel difficult.

His mind still objected but the bond grew stronger every day. John couldn’t fight this all the time and eventually, he knew he’d lose. But it didn’t matter if Sebastian broke him. All that mattered was that John survived.

Sebastian was rocking him again in that soothing way he always did. John’s eyes were getting heavy with the repetitive motion. He could have easily let himself fall asleep—his sleep-deprived body would certainly thank him for it, but he caught sight of the disassembled gun out of the corner of his eye and he fought the effects of the bond.

“I like your gun.” John said. It was a lie; he was terrified of it, but it was a good means to start up the topic.

Sebastian slowed the rocking to a stop.

Panic surged through John. Had he said something wrong? Was Sebastian angry with him? Dreading to know but needing the answer, John tilted his head back to glance up at Sebastian.

Sebastian returned his gaze. “Do you now?” He asked.

John sagged with relief. He wasn’t angry, not even suspicious. Instead, there was a look of mild curiosity on his face and just the smallest hint of surprise.

John nodded.

“You have good taste, little mate.” Sebastian said. “It’s a Glock 22.”

The name meant nothing to him but John nodded anyway. “Can you teach me to use it?” He asked, trying to make his voice light.

Sebastian laughed heartily. “And what would my little omega need that for?”

“For protection.” John said.

Sebastian sobered and became suddenly very serious. “I’ll protect you from anything.”

John was acutely aware of the arms tightening around him. “No, no, I know you would.” He said quickly. “I know you wouldn’t let anyone near me. I-I feel safe with you, but you’re not here all the time; you go out to work and leave me alone and I get worried.”

John put a deliberate hand to the man’s chest and looked up into his eyes imploringly. Sebastian’s features softened and he looked at John fondly as he loosed his grip. He pressed a kiss to the top of John’s nose. John resisted the urge to sneer.

“Please, Sebastian.” John implored.

Sebastian hugged him tightly, forcing John’s face to burrow into his neck. John focused on keeping his breathing steady. He’d been practicing it a lot lately.

Sebastian hummed thoughtfully. “You do have a point.” He conceded eventually. “I’ll think about it.”

John’s hand clenched in a rush of hope, catching a handful of Sebastian’s tee-shirt. Sebastian may have mistaken the gesture as one of affection and John wouldn’t correct him.

Sebastian shuffled in the seat and John’s foot got caught between the man’s leg and the couch. John hissed and reared back violently at the eruption of pain. After the initial shock of the pain, fear swelled up to take its place.

“Sorry!” He said quickly, worried about the reaction from his alpha. “You, uh…my foot got caught.”

Sebastian frowned, but that was a good sign because it wasn’t anger yet.

“It still hurts?” Sebastian asked.

John hesitated. “A bit.”

“Hmm, let’s have a look at you.” Sebastian muttered, lifting John up and sitting him further down the couch so he could inspect his bare foot. Sebastian gently rolled up the end of John’s trouser leg, revealing his swollen, coloured ankle. John tried not to look at it when possible; he hated to see the marks the alpha had made on his skin. It was evidence of an escape attempt that had failed horribly.

John’s heart beat faster as Sebastian held his foot, despite the tenderness and care. He propped himself up on his elbows as the alpha examined the foot and he caught a glimpse of the damage there.

It didn’t look any better since the last time he had seen it, some days ago.

The ankle was swollen and the skin was red and mottled with various shades of black, purple and yellow. Pain shot up his foot and leg as Sebastian’s fingers ghosted over the injury. The touch was light but memories of the last time the man had touched his leg surfaced nonetheless.

\--

_Eighteen days earlier…_

Sebastian’s large hand’s held his foot. John tried to pull it away but it was held tight.

“Please!” He begged wretchedly.

He hadn’t planned his escape but Sebastian had left the key to the front door in his coat pocket in a moment of thoughtlessness. John always checked potential escape routes when Sebastian was distracted and that day, he went straight into the bathroom to shower after his long day at work. John had grabbed the key and ran.

He didn’t get far.

Sebastian had beat John when he caught him in the small laneway two blocks away. His face was on fire, swollen and throbbing. Pain pierced his side. Were his ribs broken? John’s vision was blurry, his thoughts were hard to catch and even harder to keep. He had barely noticed when Sebastian picked him up from the ground, carried him back to the apartment and threw him on the bed.

John’s attention snapped back to reality when Sebastian picked up his foot.

“Hush!” Sebastian snarled.

He brought his other hand to cup John’s heel. He glared at John.

“If I can’t trust you to stay put I’ll have to take that option away from you.” Sebastian smiled toothily. “An omega doesn’t need to be able to walk, after all.”

John was sobbing now. “Please Sebastian! Alpha, please don’t!”

His begging only increased the alpha’s irritation. “I’m doing this to protect you!” He snapped. “You need to learn.”

For a moment, like the calm before the storm, Sebastian looked down at John’s foot, thumbing the skin gently. There was almost a serene look on his face before his features hardened scarily and, with a sharp tug he cracked the heel joint on John’s foot. John screamed and thrashed as he felt the ligaments snap between the bones in his foot. Sebastian snapped it to the other side, tearing the ligaments there too.

Through the tears, John caught a glimpse of Sebastian’s face. There was nothing but hardened determination and complete conviction. John was shaking by the time Sebastian’s fingers trailed up to the ankle joint.

One hand snaked under John’s calf muscle, steadying the limb, while the other grasped the top of the ankle joint, his large hands easily engulfing the smaller limb.

“No! No,no,no,no,no,no…” John babbled helplessly.

It was with a sneer that Sebastian violently wrenched the ankle to the right and then to the left.

John howled, twisting desperately in agony. His wails grew louder when Sebastian dropped the foot carelessly and it bounced on the mattress.

Sebastian wandered up the bed, trailing his fingers over John’s body as he moved. At the head of the bed, Sebastian hunkered down, his face close to John’s.

He cracked open his eyes and turned his head to look at the alpha.

“If you ever try to run again, I’ll break both legs—and it’d be no problem for me to keep them broken. Clear?”

John couldn’t speak. He could barely breathe, but in that moment every survival instinct he had encouraged him to agree with his mate. He nodded frantically.

Sebastian ran a hand through John’s hair. Giving him a pat, Sebastian left the room and John, to his pain.

 

\--

 

Sebastian had been back to his disconcerting love and care once the deed was done. The lesson was learned and John had behaved so Sebastian had no reason to show that side of himself again.

Sebastian was violent and volatile but John quickly learned that pandering to him mostly got rid of that problem. Usually, John’s good behaviour matched with the strength of the bond was enough to keep Sebastian calm. John, despite detesting it, was sometimes very grateful for the bond, fully assured that it was the only reason he was still alive.

And alive was always better than dead. Alive meant hope. And hope meant revenge. John could be patient. He was smart and he was used to not getting his way. Life had always been hard for John and this was just one more trial he had to face. He could do it. He just had to take his time and observe and plan and maybe, when the opportunity presented itself, he would promise not to lose his nerve.

“It’s not so bad.” Sebastian mumbled. “The pain will lessen with time.”

“It won’t heal right.” John didn’t know why he risked saying it, but for whatever reason, Sebastian didn’t seem to mind this time.

“Possibly not.” Moran admitted. “But it’ll keep you quiet for me, hmm?” He gave John a grin and a light pat to the foot before resting it back down on the couch.

It was all John could do to turn his sneer into a tight smile.

Sebastian went back to cleaning his gun in the quiet room. John watched him for having nothing better to do. This close to him, with the man distracted, John began to slip back into his bonding calm.

He watched Sebastian’s hands work thoughtfully. Sebastian loved his guns and he took very good care of them. But if one of those guns failed he wouldn’t think twice about destroying them. Moran took good care of things he liked, but it was a good reminder to John that his emotional attachment lasted only as long as it was useful to him.

John couldn’t afford to fail in front of Sebastian.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It was a grey Sunday morning and Sherlock was walking down the road, hands in his pockets and collar turned up to protect his cheeks from the cool wind. He walked with his head down, his brain busily solving problems but to the old man passing by on his way to church, Sherlock seemed like just another sulky youngster. That was how Emily found him.

“Sherlock,” she called out.

Sherlock didn’t hear her. He walked straight by.

“Sherlock Holmes!” She shouted, louder this time, hurrying after him.

Sherlock turned, scowling as he scanned for the source of the voice. He watched the girl as she caught up with him, her breathing slightly elevated, her cheeks bitten from the wind, her eyes dark and tired.

“Who are you?” He asked.

Emily hesitated, confused. “I’m Emily,” she said and then lowered her voice, “you know, the omega.”

Sherlock stared at her blankly. “Who?”

Confusion quickly turned to irritation. “What do you mean, ‘who’?” she said, “You told me you’d help us. You were going to look into the kidnappings, remember? It’s been months and I haven’t heard anything from you so I thought I’d track you down and see what’s going on.”

Sherlock searched his memory. “Ah, yes,” he said eventually, “I remember now.”

Emily’s features tightened. “And?”

Sherlock waved a hand. “Oh, well there was nothing to find. Insufficient evidence and frankly, not interesting enough to hold my attention without a solid lead to follow.”

“So you just abandoned it?” Emily asked incredulously.

Sherlock shrugged. “There were more important cases.”

“Not for us, there wasn’t!” Emily cried, “We were counting on you. We couldn’t protect ourselves from them, we were sitting ducks. More than half of us were taken, almost everyone else turned themselves into the authorities. There’s only a handful of us left now and I don’t know how long we can hold out.”

Emily looked away, distraught. She angrily wiped away the tears forming in her eyes with her sleeve.

“I made no promises. It is idiotic to rely on another person to fix your problems.”

Emily shook her head, speechless. “So you’re just going to leave us?”

“Of course.”

“I thought you were a good person,” Emily said, sounding dumbfounded.

“Well,” Sherlock said, “that was your mistake.”

Sherlock turned and strode away, mentally trying to pick up on his calculations were he left off.

Emily shook her head and ran after him. “No.” She said as she fell into step, walking beside him down the road. “No, so maybe you’re not a good person. So what? There must be something you want? Something I can do for you? Some way I can help?”

Sherlock scoffed. “Trust me, there is no way you could possibly perform better in any field of expertise than I could myself.”

Emily bristled. “Oh yeah? Mr Consulting Detective?” She said mockingly. “Whatever that means, anyway. It obviously doesn’t mean you have any talent because I could find evidence and I don’t even have any fancy titles.”

Sherlock spun towards her. He was reacting to the insult but by the time he finished the movement his brain had moved on. “What evidence?” He asked.

Emily took a step back, surprised by the sudden movement. She recovered quickly.

“I know where they take omegas from, and how often they look for us.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “How do you know this?”

“I saw them take someone. I went to get suppressants and I saw the dealer and some other guy knock this kid out and stuff him in their car boot. They didn’t see me, so I followed them.”

“Where did they go?”

Emily shook her head. “I don’t know. They got into a car and turned at the end of the road. I tried a few times but I’ve never been able to keep up with them. But it got me thinking that maybe that’s how they’re doing it. They’re pretending to sell suppressants, maybe they even do sometimes, but then they take the omegas they want. See, not everyone who went out for suppressants got taken, so maybe there’s only a few, or then I thought, maybe they use different sites. So I looked and the same guys kept cropping up. Not every night but every few days. I figured it out, I know their pattern. That’s how I’ve been able to avoid them.”

“It’s a good plan. Effective.”

“Yeah well, that plan made me lose everyone I love,” Emily said. “So will you help me?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Help me find these guys.” She said, exasperated. “I can’t go to the police, they won’t care and they’ll just try to put me away. But maybe if we find these guys and where they’re taking omegas we can give the police something real. Maybe we can even rescue my friends.”

For a very brief moment, Sherlock considered the request. “Your friends are gone.” He said bluntly. “Even if you did find the people who took them there’s nothing you can do. There’s no mystery, in this case, just leg work and I am not interested in running around the city chasing after cars. Do yourself a favour; forget about them and move on.”

Sherlock turned on his heel and strode away from Emily once more. This time, she did not follow. She just watched him go, helpless.

\--

Emily didn’t physically follow him, but her words clung to Sherlock’s brain. He usually didn’t give much consideration to the insults people threw at him but the mocking tone of the young omega’s words rankled him.

_Oh yeah? Mr Consulting Detective? … even I could find evidence and I don’t have any fancy titles_

He found it unspeakably ignorant of the girl to say; she clearly had no understanding of his genius. Sherlock was used to people doubting him but that she had found evidence he had not was irksome. Sherlock had failed to recognise a pattern which, in hindsight, was so obvious. In truth, Sherlock hadn’t cared all that much but this was hardly a difficult code to break.

Sherlock shook his head. He tried to focus on the problem he had been trying to solve before Emily interrupted him. It shouldn’t take long to work through.

_Oh yeah? Mr Consulting Detective?_

Sherlock growled in frustration.

How dare she say that about him? He was not someone to be mocked. He was Sherlock Holmes. He had more than likely solved more cases in a few short years than the entirety of Scotland Yard had in their history. She was just a silly twat that he wouldn’t waste any more time on.

Sherlock turned the corner onto Baker Street but he barely noticed that where he was.

If that omega had managed to find evidence, why hadn’t he? He shouldn’t have missed it, even if he didn’t care. It should be obvious. He was Sherlock Holmes. He didn’t get things wrong, he didn’t miss things, he never didn’t know the answer.

“Damn,” Sherlock muttered under his breath as he went to open his front door.

“Problems, Sherlock?”

Sherlock gave a loud sigh. As if his day could get any worse. “Nothing you would care about, Mycroft.” He said, facing her brother.

Sherlock could feel Mycroft’s keen eyes on him, spotting tiny details that gave a picture. Seemingly assured that Sherlock was in no real physical or mental danger, he nodded.

“Very well,” Mycroft said, stepping out from under the Speedy’s canopy, “though it is rare that I can sneak up on you these days.”

Sherlock gave a bored store. “I was lost in thought, clearly.”

“Clearly.” Mycroft agreed. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“No,” Sherlock said flatly.

Mycroft tsked. “I would really rather not have this conversation on the street, Sherlock.”

“Then let’s just not have it.”

Mycroft did not respond. Rather, he gave Sherlock a bored stare.

Sherlock sighed dramatically. “Oh very well, if we must. Do come in, Mycroft.” Sherlock opened his front door and went upstairs to his flat, leaving Mycroft to follow at his own pace. Sherlock threw himself onto a lounge chair by the window, slouching so far half his body was off the furniture.

“Thank you, Sherlock,” Mycroft said mildly once he walked into the flat.

Mycroft looked around the living room, stacked with books and papers, bits of metal, chemistry apparatus and apparently a lot of random pieces of rubbish. Mycroft had to visibly resist the desire to say something about it.

“Why are you bothering me, Mycroft?”

Mycroft glanced around for a place to sit but finding no clear surface, he moved over to the fireplace and leaned against it.

“How are you, Sherlock?”

Sherlock scowled. “Fine. Obviously. You didn’t come here just to ask me that.”

 “It is good to see you are well. Are you working on any cases at the moment?”

“I should be asking you that, or are your spies getting lazy. Perhaps we should ring Lestrade for an update.” Sherlock suggested bitterly.

“You know Detective Inspector Lestrade does not contact me, Sherlock. I merely provided him with my number in the case of an emergency. There is no need for this antagonism.”

Sitting up straight in his chair, sensing the opportunity for a fight, Sherlock said, “Yes there is, because you have yet to tell me why you are really here.”

Mycroft closed his eyes briefly. “I am merely concerned for my brother, must you be so difficult about this?”

“Perhaps not, if I believed you were telling me the truth, but I do not and so, I must.”

Sighing wearily, Mycroft said, “I have come with the request that you look after yourself and stay away from any cases that you may hear of for a short time, perhaps a few weeks.”

Sherlock examined his brother. His eyes picked up the strange way Mycroft leaned against the fireplace for support, not just for show as was usual. Mycroft’s skin looked a little greyer than was typical and under his eyes, though clearly covered with some sort of foundation, were dark circles.

“You’re worried,” Sherlock said. “Why?”

“Sherlock, you know as well as I that I cannot divulge that information. Needless to say, I would not be asking this of you, if there was not a genuine reason.”

“Something is happening.”

Mycroft nodded. “Yes. Even I am not entirely sure what is going on, but the fact that I do not have all the information is rare enough that I am concerned.”

“Well, I would say that if you needed an expert to take a look, I could most definitely solve the problem, but we both know I would rather die than help you.”

“Quite,” Mycroft said. “Regardless, I do request that you do this for me. I can provide you with work if you think you need it but stay away from the streets and stay away from Scotland Yard. I’m begging you.”

“Begging, Mycroft, really?” Sherlock said, exasperated. “Can we leave the dramatics behind? Either way, I won’t be requiring employment from you.”

“But you will do as I ask?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Oh very well. If it gets you off my back, I will gladly suffer through it.”

Mycroft’s body seemed to sag with relief. “Thank you, Sherlock. I will tell you as soon as it’s safe for you to return to your work.”

“Yes, yes.” Sherlock said, waving him away, “If that is what you came here to do, you have now done it and can have no further reason for being here.”

Mycroft nodded. “I will take my leave. Be safe, little brother.”

Mycroft let the flat, gently closing the door behind him. Sherlock waited all of two minutes before jumping up and hurrying to the window. He watched the tail end of Mycroft’s car disappear into traffic and Sherlock was on the move again.

He left the flat with a bang of the door.

Sherlock hurried back to where he last saw that omega girl, Emily. While not most interesting of jobs, Mycroft would surely already have told Lestrade to ban Sherlock from any crime scene. This was all there was left. The real reason he chose to do it, however, was because Mycroft so rarely gave him the opportunity to directly defy him. Sherlock couldn’t quite remember the last time Mycroft had begged him for anything, even as the manipulation Sherlock was sure it must have been. The job may not be particularly enjoyable but Sherlock would take pleasure in the rebellion.

\--

It didn’t take long for Sherlock to find her; she hadn’t travelled far. Emily was sitting on a park bench, looking down miserably at her hands.

“You said you would do something for me,” Sherlock said as he approached.

Emily’s head shot up. Her jaw slack. “Anything.” She said breathily.

Sherlock sat down beside her. “I will help you, on one condition.”

She turned her body to face him, full of conviction. “You name it, I’ll do it, whatever it is.”

“You would be a terrible negotiator,” Sherlock told her. “You haven’t heard my condition yet.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“If I do this, I won’t need you to be my partner, you’re much too dull for that. I’ll need you to be my bait. It may be dangerous.”

“Are you sure you can catch them?”

“Yes.”

“And you have a plan?”

“Yes.”

Emily didn’t take any time to consider it. “Okay then, if you want me as bait, put me on a hook and let’s go tempt some fishes.”

 

\--

John would never describe things as ‘good’ between him and Sebastian, but at least he had understood the man and what was required from him in the situation. Sebastian could be managed; he knew the tricks that would exploit the man’s weaknesses.

John couldn’t possibly have prepared himself for the new alpha standing by the window in the living room when he awoke one morning.

John had thought he was alone in the flat. Sebastian was away on a job and though he was due to return that morning, it was still much too early to be him.

As soon as John limped into the living room, the man turned. John halted. Frozen in place.

Dark hair and eyes and surprisingly slight in stature for an alpha, the intruder was instantly terrifying in a way John couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the way he smiled? It was like a shark’s toothy grin. Just about as malicious too.

The man slunk towards him, black suit, black eyes, black hair, he moved like ink in water.

Fear rendered him silent. John searched for Sebastian, hoping he had entered the apartment alongside this stranger. He never thought he’d see the day when he would wish for his alpha’s presence but Sebastian at least was familiar.

“So you’re Sebby’s little pet.” The new alpha said, grinning manically.

John swallowed and said nothing. If in doubt, always do nothing. Still, the idea of calling Sebastian Moran a pet name like Sebby was ridiculous enough for him to get caught on the name.

“Do you know who I am?” The alpha asked, still approaching.

 He moved with a looseness that spoke of complete command of his environment and security of his territory. But the thing was, it wasn’t his territory, it was Sebastian’s and John had never seen any alpha, even alphas from the same family, to be so at peace in another’s territory.

“No,” John said quietly, retreating a step back as the man came too close for comfort.

The man threw out his hands in an abrupt gesture that made John flinch in surprise. “Well?” He giggled. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

John’s fingers twitched. His toes curled in his shoes. Every instinct in John’s body told him to run. This alpha was trouble.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to know, I’m sure,” John replied, lifting his chin and standing his ground.

The alpha snorted in unabashed amusement. “Sebby’s quite smitten with you, Johnny boy.” The alpha said, eyeing him up and down blatantly. “When he showed you to me first, I gotta admit; I didn’t see it. But Sebby does have a type and you, darling, are most definitely it.”

He grabbed John’s chin and yanked face up towards him, turning this way and that to study his features. “I have to say, I like that bit of spunk in you… Now me, I’d enjoy beating it out of you completely. But Sebby does well with something to keep his mind occupied and I can’t deny that he’s been easier to manage since he picked you up.”

He gave an ugly grin before patting John roughly on the cheek and wandering back around to the couch, flopping himself down on it, careless of the expensive suit he was wearing and of the coffee table he put his feet on.

John stiffened at the feet on the table. Sebastian would slap him for that.

“What do you want?” John asked, proud of the strength in his voice. His eyes flickered to the kitchen, focusing on the knife drawer. But Sebastian wasn’t here. The knife drawer was locked.

The alpha huffed in amusement, clasping his hands over of his stomach.

“Consider this me managing a variable.” The man said.

John frowned, cautiously moving forwards. “What does that mean?”

The alpha bared his teeth again and his eyes lit up with glee. Those eyes were probably the scariest things John had ever seen. He tensed again, expecting an attack, but it didn’t come. The man took his feet off the coffee table and sat forward on the couch.

“It means, Johnny-boy, that Sebastian is a key piece in my plans and you, currently, are affecting his behaviour. Now, as it stands, Sebastian’s…calmer behaviour is working out very conveniently for me… but if that changes, I’ll be going after you, sweetheart.”

The man was back on his feet, stalking towards John with unnerving speed.

“If you think for a second, Johnny, that you can manipulate Sebby for your own purposes,” His hand shot out and grabbed John’s throat before he could flinch. The man’s façade crumbled and pure rage was revealed underneath. “I will _destroy_ you, I will slice and tear and pull _parts_ of you until there’s nothing left! And then, then, I will personally watch as Sebastian fucks you until you die!”

The volume of the man’s screech shook John into a stupor. John stared, shaken, frozen and terrified. In the next moment, the man gave him a winning smile and patted John down, removing imaginary dust from his clothes and straightening his jumper.

The stranger stepped back and inspected his work. Pleased, he nodded to himself and wandered back to the couch. John stood there silently, eyes firmly trained on the man. He didn’t know where his voice came from but John heard himself speak before he had made the decision to open his mouth.

“Where’s Sebastian?” He asked.

The man seemed bored now, busy on his phone, tapping rapidly on the keypad. “Hmm, oh, around, I imagine.” The man replied, vaguely.

John watched him through narrowed eyes as he moved around the edges of the room, leaning heavily on the wall for support, trying to hide his limp. A very basic instinct told him to not show any unnecessary weakness in front of this man.

John searched the house, checking all the rooms and failing to find Sebastian anywhere. Reluctantly, John returned to the living room, glancing down the hall to the front door. Willing Sebastian to walk through.

“Pining for your master?” The man asked, snickering.

John startled, whipping his head around. He didn’t say anything to that, but John made the decision to retreat into the bedroom. He intended to lock himself in the bathroom until Sebastian showed up or the man left.

He was still making his way around the room, exhausted by the exertion when Sebastian arrived through the front door. John could have cried in gratitude. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief, shifting to rest his back against the wall, taking the weight off of his wounded foot.

“Sebby!” The insane man cried out in glee as Sebastian entered the flat.

“Hey, boss!” Sebastian appeared genuinely pleased.

John watched the scene unfold before him quietly, curious about the relationship between the men. Sebastian carried a bag over his shoulder which he dumped to the floor when he sat down on the couch. It hit the floor hard, with a dull thump.

“Is that it?” The strange alpha asked.

Sebastian grinned. “In full.”

John wouldn’t call the sound that came out of the alpha’s mouth a delighted squeal—because no alpha ever _squealed_ —but he didn’t know what else to call it.

“Perfect.” The man shoved his phone into his shirt pocket and jumped up from the chair, striding over to the bag and scooping it up, peering inside with his back turned to John. “Now, concerning our other issue,” he continued, “that governmental official of ours is getting awfully nosey.”

“Want me to keep an eye on him?” Sebastian offered.

The man nodded. “He’s in the dark right now. Make sure he stays that way. But if he does become too much of a problem…well, use your problem-solving skills.”

The strange alpha giggled and spun on his heel. He looked as if he was about to leave the room but suddenly re-adjusted his body to move towards John with a distinctly predatory look. He moved up close to John, invading his personal space and crowding him against the wall.

With his alpha in the room, the man’s behaviour was unheard of and borderline taboo. John was shocked that Sebastian hadn’t pummelled the man into oblivion by this point. A quick glance revealed that Sebastian wasn’t even agitated by another alpha so close to his omega. That was just the strangest thing.

“See you soon, Johnny-boy.” The man said softly, menacingly, with a shark-like grin as he slid his fingers down John’s cheek. He moved away and strode out of the room with a flamboyant wave and a “Later, Sebby!”

John didn’t move until he heard the door slam shut. Sebastian was removing his shoes and settling into a relaxing position on the couch. Warily, John pushed away from the wall and approached the couch. He sat down opposite his alpha.

“Who was that?” John asked.

Sebastian glanced up. “His name’s Moriarty.”

“He’s your boss?” It was phrased as a question but John already knew the answer. “And what work do you do with him?” John asked carefully.

“This and that. Depends on what he wants.”

“You hurt people. You kill them.” John said.

Sebastian looked at him. “You know the answer to that.”

John lowered his eyes and licked his lips. “What does Moriarty do, exactly?”

“What’s with all these questions?” Sebastian asked suspiciously.

“He scares me.”

Sebastian huffed in amusement. “And so he should.” The alpha stretched his arms up, arching his back and yawning. “He makes money, that’s all you need to know.”

John nodded, aware that he would get no more answers from his alpha. The room fell into silence, John studied his hands intently, unsure as to what to do now.

“You don’t need to worry about Moriarty; he knows you’re mine,” Sebastian said.

John refrained from voicing his own thoughts that John might be Sebastian’s but Sebastian clearly belonged to Moriarty. That left John in a very tricky position.

Oh, John realised he was starting to panic again. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his thoughts. When Sebastian turned the television on, John closed his eyes, blocking out the rest of the world. Eventually, he fell asleep to the TV thumping in the background.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to quickly say thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter. I didn't get a chance to respond but I did read them and I really appreciate everyone who took the time to write. Your comments encouraged me to get into gear and finish writing this chapter. So enjoy!

Emily walked down the alleyway stiffly, trying desperately to hide her terror. She was about to meet the man who had been responsible for the disappearances of her fellow omegas and friends. Internally, she shook herself; Sherlock was close and if anything went wrong, he would help her. She would be okay. She had to keep telling herself that or she might run away.

Emily turned the corner to the small road wedged between two high walls. There, at the end of the road was a black van, lights on and engine running. She let out a shaky breath as she walked the long way down. The van was facing away from her, the red brake lights glowing ominously in the darkness like demon eyes. The temperature was frigid this evening, the dealer must be waiting inside the vehicle.

Doubt started to creep in as Emily made her long approach. It had been three weeks since Sherlock had agreed to help her. There had been delays in the plan. Emily had made mistakes in her calculations on the schedule of the kidnapper and Sherlock had to make efforts to avoid someone he claimed was his nemesis. Emily didn’t know what that meant, exactly, but it had set them back a few days. She was worried that maybe they were too late to catch the kidnapper? What if he’d already moved on? What if he figured out her plan? What if the plan didn’t work? What if she messed everything up?

No.

Emily clenched her jaw. She thought of John and all the others who had been taken. This would work. It had to work.

She was a few metres from the van when the passenger door opened and a hulking, muscled man stepped out. She didn’t recognise him from the previous kidnappings but that didn’t mean anything. Wearing dark clothing and a hood covering his head, Emily could already tell he was an alpha. His scent told her he was mated. Some part of her breathed a sigh of relief but she quickly berated herself; just because he was mated didn’t mean she was safe from him.

“You okay?” The man asked when Emily didn’t speak.

She cleared her throat. “I’m looking to buy.” She said, proud of how clear her voice was.

The dealer nodded. “For yourself or a group?”

 “There’s two of us.” She said.

“How much do you want?”

“How much do you have?”

The man laughed. “More than you can afford, trust me. How much do you want?” He repeated.

“Three months.”

“For two?”

A nod.

“Okay.” He said, walking to the back of the van. “Expensive.”

“I can pay,” Emily assured him.

“I hope so, this isn’t a charity.” He said, opening the van doors.

The dealer pulled a black duffle bag close to him and stooping over it, he rummaged around for a few moments. He stopped.

“Actually,” he said, looking over to Emily suspiciously, “it’s _very_ expensive. Show me the money first, I don’t want you pulling a snatch and grab.”

Fear spiked through her. “I have the money.” She said defensively.

The man scowled and approached her. “Show me and I’ll give you your suppressants.”

Emily grimaced but dug her hand into her jacket and pulled out a crinkled wad of red and blue notes showing a collection of fifty and twenty pounds. It was a lot of money, on lend to her from Sherlock for the purpose of this plan. She didn’t think she had ever held so much money in her hand before.

The dealer raised his brow and whistled. “Well,” he said, “I wasn’t expecting that. Let me see.”

Emily quickly snatched back her hand. “Show me the suppressants first.

He laughed again. “Alright, alright.” He said, holding up his hands as he stepped back and returned to the back of the open van. He pulled out two clear plastic bags of tablets, roughly three months’ worth of suppressants in each.

“As promised,” he said, handing them over to her, “now for my money.”

Emily pocketed the tablets and quickly counted the money. She put some surplus notes back into her pocket and folding over the wad, she offered it to the dealer. Emily thought of Sherlock hiding somewhere, ready to follow the man once the deal was concluded or to intervene if the man tried anything. She relieved this ordeal was almost over, once she left, the rest would be up to Sherlock.

Emily squeaked when a crushing grip snatched her wrist and she was tugged forwards. She cried out, dropping the money and struggling against the hold on her arm. Panicked, she hit out at him, feet slipping on the ground. The man grabbed her other arm as she thrashed. She kicked at his shins and shouted for help.

The man snarled “Easy now.” He commanded.

Emily fought, wildly lashing out in every way she could but the man was like a brick wall. She knew it was a futile battle but she couldn’t give up; Sherlock was close, he would help her, she just had to buy him time.

The dealer swept a leg and knocked her off her feet, pulling her into him, his huge, muscled arms locking her into his body, her back to his chest. 

Emily screamed. “Let me go!” Terror thickened her voice.

She gritted her teeth and kicked backwards. Unable to use her arms with the man’s rough grasp on her wrists, Emily could only wriggle and squirm. Her kidnapper shifted his grip on her writhing body, his arms travelling up higher. He began to drag her backwards. She struggled to get her footing and her when her legs were unable to find purchase, Emily sunk her teeth into the flesh of his forearm.

The man cursed and stopped moving.

She bit down harder, feeling the skin break beneath her teeth. She tasted his blood.

He shook her, trying to dislodge her teeth to no avail. With the hold he had on her, short of letting her go, there was nothing he could. He snarled and started dragging her back again. Emily’s feet hit the ground and she kicked off the broken cement, pushing herself further into the man’s grasp. Already off balance, he careened backwards, taking Emily with him. He hit the ground with an ‘oomph’.

Emily reared her head backwards and felt her skull connect with his face. The man snarled and his hold on her loosened for a split second. With a rush of hope, she slipped out of his grasp and scrambled away. Her knees were weak and she stumbled twice before successfully getting to her feet. She ran.

Where was Sherlock? Why wasn’t he helping her? Emily’s eyes darted around wildly, desperately searching for his aid. She didn’t get far.

The air was knocked out of her when she was hit by a vicious force from behind. Pinned to the ground by his huge weight, the dealer straddled her body grabbing her arms and yanking them high behind her back. Emily shrieked in pain and terror that her shoulders would dislocate. Above her, the man was breathing heavily, snarling with every inhale. His other arm snaked around her throat and she was lifted up painfully by the hold on her neck and arms.

She was dragged backwards again.

Emily whined, powerless, heartbroken. She watched the scenery pass by her as she was hauled away. When they reached the back of the van, she was shoved roughly inside. She hit the floor harshly, winded from the impact. He was in straight after her, slamming the door behind him and grabbing her before she could move.

“Drive!” The kidnapper bellowed to a previously unnoticed driver.

She had heard once that you should never allow a kidnapper to take you to a second location and she snapped back into action at the realisation of that happening. Emily renewed as the car began to move. She had to get out, she had to.

Her kidnapper held her with one arm and rummaged for few moments in the black duffle bag, cursing at Emily’s writhing. She felt a sudden sharp pain in her arm. There was a needle buried in her bicep. She whimpered defeatedly as it was pulled out and tossed away.

The man laughed. “That’s the end of that, omega.” He told her, rubbing her arm where he had injected her, numbing the lingering pain.

Within seconds Emily’s body started to feel heavy and numb. It unnerved her, the speed of it taking over her body. She imagined it burning through her bloodstream, like a poison, dooming her. She swallowed down terrified tears.

Where was Sherlock? He was supposed to help her. How could he let this happen? What would happen to her now? This wasn’t supposed to happen…

“Did you just sedate her?” The driver asked.

The kidnapper grunted.

“Boss won’t be happy with that.”

“He’ll get over of it, she’s still conscious, just quiet. She’d just hurt herself if I let her go on.” He said and then, studying his arm, he added, “the bitch bit me.”

The driver huffed in amusement. “Did more than that, she split your lip.” He said, glancing in the rear-view mirror. “Must be getting old if a little girl can beat you up.”

“Can’t let them get injured, even it means you’ve got to take a hit or two sometimes. Remember that, there’s a reason you’re driving tonight, after all.”

The kidnapper shifted his hold on Emily, moving them both into a more comfortable position now that she was docile. He bundled her up in his arms, tucking her head into his chest.

The driver grunted. “Sometimes they deserve a smack to be fair.”

“We don’t damage the goods, no matter how deserving.” He said with a warning note to his voice.

“Well, you’d better put a ‘buyer beware’ sign on that one for the auction, otherwise one of them might get a finger bitten off.”

“Good one.” The kidnapper snorted. “I’m going to need stitches for that bite.”

Her kidnappers’ words were becoming hazy. She couldn’t focus on their conversation anymore. Emily closed her eyes in despair, tears running freely down her cheeks.

_Sherlock…_

\--

Sherlock was crouched on the roof of a three-storey building, looking down at the meeting point throughout Emily’s ordeal. He watched Emily approach the van, taking note of the registration. He saw them talk, exchange the tablets and witnessed as the dealer grabbed her. Emily struggled. Sherlock had to admit she fought like a dog but it wasn’t long before she was forced into the van. The bite was a nice touch though. He hadn’t told Emily that he intended her to get kidnapped for fear her reaction wouldn’t be authentic. Watching the scene unfold, he felt affirmed in his decision.

When the van doors closed, Sherlock stood up from his hidden position and quickly moved to follow them. Based on Emily’s previous experience and his own deductions, he could predict where the van was heading. Sherlock pulled up the map of London in his head, seeing before him the routes and shortcuts, the delays the van would face—red lights, pedestrians, the police station they would pass—and calculated how he could intersect their path.

He hurried down the emergency stairs and out onto the road, sprinting across two lanes and into an alleyway, vaulted over a large dumpster and took a hard left. He imagined the progress of the van on his mental map and his own position. He emerged onto the street just in time to see his quarry turn down the road towards him. Sherlock whipped his head around, searching quickly.

There.

Sherlock sprinted over to a stopped taxi and dived into the back.

“There’s a black van coming down this road right now. It will pass us in fifteen seconds. Follow it.” Sherlock barked.

The taxi driver looked back startled. “Wha—”

“Just do it. This is an investigation.”

The taxi driver didn’t move, stunned.

Sherlock growled, becoming more irritated as the black van slowly passed by. “Go!” He shouted. “Follow that van!”

This time the taxi driver jumped into action. Flustered, he revved the engine too high and almost pulled out on top of another car but slipped into the traffic with an apologetic wave to the other driver.

They were two cars behind the black van but traffic was slow and there was no chance they would lose the van. Sherlock was pleased he had found the taxi here. He had prepared three more rendezvous points where he could potentially grab a cab to trail the kidnappers but he would rather not appear sweaty and dishevelled when Lestrade arrived on the scene. As soon as Sherlock learned where the kidnappers were taking Emily, he would call it in. The omega abductors would be caught in the middle of the act, inside their base and the case would be closed. Sherlock would able to boast about another case he solved where Lestrade’s team failed and Mycroft would be furious that he had been defied. Even Emily would have her revenge. He imagined she would also forgive him for getting her kidnapped once he saved the day.

“Um…so you’re a policeman?” The taxi driver asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, aggravated at the interruption. “I’m a consulting detective.”

“Oh, and who’s in the van?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Sherlock said, deadpan.

“Sure, I get it, it’s just—”

“Hush!” Sherlock interrupted again. “I need to think. If you speak again I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

Wisely, the taximan didn’t speak after that and they spent the rest of the journey in silence. Sherlock took out his phone and started texting. He sent the message to Lestrade.

_About to break the case of the missing omegas. Tracking culprits now. Address to follow. Be ready._

It took less than a minute for Lestrade’s name to light up his phone. Sherlock answered the buzzing mobile.

“Sherlock!” Lestrade’s voice was strained at the other end of the line. “What do you think you’re doing? Stop this immediately, you’re supposed to be lying low right now.”

Sherlock huffed in disdain. Of course, Mycroft wouldn’t be able to stop himself from informing Lestrade.

“This is linked to the double homicide some months ago, I haven’t taken on any new cases, merely finishing up on this one,” Sherlock informed him.

“The case with Merton and his mate? You said there were no leads.”

“Well, clearly new evidence has come to light.”

“Sherlock,” Lestrade said firmly, “you need to stop whatever it is you’re doing and go home. Tell me what you know and we can follow up on it.”

Sherlock scoffed. “So you can let them get away? No, there’s an omega girl currently in the back of a black van on her way to what I imagine is a human trafficking ring. If I do as you ask that girl will be sold off and we’ll lose the trail. Now, are you going to help me or not?”

Lestrade was quiet for a moment. “Tell me where you are.”

Sherlock told him the street and the general area he suspected they were travelling to. He promised to send on the specific address once they arrived. Sherlock could hear the sounds of Lestrade rushing around his office.

“Okay,” said Lestrade, “I’ll be there in under forty minutes. But Sherlock, whatever happens, wait for me. You do not go in alone, okay?”

“Of course,” Sherlock replied smoothly.

“I’m serious, Sherlock, this is serious.”

“I know, I know. I’ll wait.” Sherlock said, agitated.

“And keep me posted if anything changes.”

Sherlock hung up.

He travelled another twenty minutes through the busy streets of London. Sherlock was surprised when they didn’t take the turns he had expected. He watched the back of that black van intensely, wondering why they weren’t taking the routes that would lead them to more secluded areas. They followed the van to an industrial estate near Clapham. He got out of the taxi at the entrance, telling the man to wait until the police arrived to collect his pay. Then, he continued on foot in the direction the van went.

It didn’t take him long to find out where the van had stopped. Sherlock kept close to the wall, peaking around the corner of the building to see the parked van at the entrance of a storage unit. It was bigger than most of the other units in the estate but smaller than Sherlock had expected. This was obviously not a main operating base. Still, once they caught the people responsible it was only a few logical steps away before the entire network collapsed. Texting Lestrade the address, Sherlock waited impatiently, throwing the occasional glance to ensure that the vehicle was still there.

After waiting for ten minutes, Sherlock began to pace. At fifteen minutes, Sherlock huffed and stalked towards the storage unit. He had promised Lestrade that he wouldn’t go in, not that he wouldn’t walk around outside. He only wanted to scope out the place, prepare for his dramatic victory at the end of it all. When he got to the front door, he saw that the heavy metal door would have to be rammed open. His nose picked up the faint scent of a mated alpha and Emily around the van and building. Walking around the building, Sherlock saw a back door to a narrow alleyway. The door was locked, made of the same heavy metal. Before he had time to inspect any further, Sherlock’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He hissed and retreated, pulling it out and seeing Lestrade’s name on the screen.

Sherlock hurried away behind the corner of another building before answering.

“What?” He whispered harshly into the phone, as quiet as possible.

“We’re two minutes away. Tell me what’s waiting for us.” Lestrade said. Sherlock could hear the sound of traffic in the background.

“Storage unit, the van’s parked outside. It’s two floors high with two entry points. Both have metal doors, both are locked. You’ll need to break them down. I can’t hear anything from the outside and _someone_ won’t allow me to look inside.”

Lestrade ignored his last statement. “We’re turning in now. Get back from the building, stay away until we’re finished.”

Sherlock sighed and hung up. He walked around to meet Lestrade’s cars, he motioned the direction of the building to them. The cars stopped and silently the police, attired in heavy assault gear moved towards the building with the van, breaking into two teams, one at either end of the building.

Lestrade approached Sherlock. “Stay here.” He said. “I’ll come and get you as soon as this is done.”

Sherlock nodded and watched as Lestrade followed his men.

He waited a few minutes. Faintly, Sherlock heard banging on the door and then a blast with what must have been a smoke bomb. Then, nothing. Nothing for a long time.

 “Sherlock!”

Lestrade was walking towards him.

“All went to plan, I imagine?” Sherlock said, meeting Lestrade halfway.

Lestrade was quiet for a moment. “No, Sherlock,” he said gravely, “there’s nothing there.”

Sherlock froze. Colour seemed to bleed away from the world. Sounds around him distorted.

“What?” He felt, more than heard himself say.

No. How could they not be there? He had seen them, followed them.

“You must have missed something.” Sherlock breathed, rushing passed Lestrade to see for himself. He couldn’t believe he was wrong. He just couldn’t believe it.

Sherlock bullied his way into the storage unit, he pushed away an irritated Detective Donovan. Sherlock couldn’t even hear her when she shouted angrily after him. He slowed to a stop, lost suddenly, in the vastness of the empty space.

The exit door was open, the room had empty cardboard boxes strewn over the ground near the sides. There was a ladder with a small walkway that led to a plywood office room above him but there were policemen wandering out of it and clearly, it wasn’t large enough that the police, no matter how dull, could have missed an omega.

How could he have been so wrong?

Dazed, Sherlock stumbled over to the exit. He looked around at the door and the ground outside. His eyes picked up on details he missed the first time. In the mucky sludge, there was an uneven indentation of a footprint showing a large man carrying a weight approximately the same as a certain teenaged omega. He caught the scent of Emily lingering around the doorframe where the tiniest swatch of her clothing had caught in a large splinter. Two sets of footprints lead away from the building.

Sherlock followed them until he reached concrete. The wetness from the muck continued their tracks for a few steps before disappearing entirely. Sherlock looked around, desperately trying to find more clues. He sniffed the air, trying to pick up on that scent but it was long gone. It would have been blown away by the wind instantly. The trail was gone.

 “Idiot!” He snarled.

If only Lestrade hadn’t rung him, Sherlock would have seen it and he may have had a chance to follow her. It was all Lestrade’s fault that Emily was gone. Sherlock kicked over a rubbish bin in fury.

“Damn it all.” Sherlock cursed again. He let out a frustrated growl, spinning on his heel, unable to believe that he had been bested. No, not bested, scuppered by the idiocy of Scotland Yard. If he had just been left to his own devices, Sherlock could have solved this case himself. Damn Mycroft, damn Lestrade!

Fuming, and looking for a fight, Sherlock returned to Lestrade.

“What the hell took you so long?” Sherlock shouted across the storage unit as soon as he saw Lestrade.

Lestrade looked over wearily and excused himself from the conversation he was engaged in. He hushed Sherlock as he approached him.

“Don’t shush me!” Sherlock growled. “And answer my damn question!”

“Sherlock, I know you wanted a happy ending to this but—”

Sherlock stepped in close to Lestrade, domineering. “I set everything up for you, I literally handed you this case on a plate, but you and your team’s ineptitude ruined it again. Typical. Should I explain to you how to do your job, Lestrade? Perhaps I’ll write it in crayon, you might understand it for once.”

“That’s enough, Sherlock.” Lestrade warned, starting to become angry.

“Why? Is the objective truth of your incompetence unpleasant to hear? My plan was perfect, I got the bait, I followed them, I found their destination. All you needed to do was show up and do your job, but you couldn’t even do that. Because of you, another omega has been taken. It’s your fault they’re going to sell her into slavery.”

A dark look passed over Lestrade’s features. “Maybe it’s _your_ incompetence, Sherlock, that’s unpleasant to hear? You were told to stay away but still you went off and concocted your own plan, putting another person in danger. You neglected to tell anyone else about it so you could come and be the hero when you decided to tell us what you were doing. You were expecting everyone to jump on your demand, all to build your own ego and make some petty rebellion against your brother. Now that girl has been taken and it’s your fault, Sherlock. Without your arrogance, none of this would have happened and we might have had a chance at saving not only that girl but who knows how many others.”

Sherlock recoiled and then bristled, but was somehow lost for words. He wanted to deny everything and go back to blaming Lestrade but he had never seen Lestrade angry like this before and there was a tiny part of him that knew Lestrade was right. He buried the thought quickly but still found it difficult to speak.

Lestrade seemed to sense Sherlock’s struggle. His shoulders sagged as he sighed, anger now drained. “Look, Sherlock, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say any of that, it’s just been an emotional day.”

Irritated, Sherlock waved him off. “Don’t be so weak, you said what you said, be a man and stand by it. I’m leaving.”

Sherlock stormed away.

“Wait, Sherlock, I’ll drop you home.”

“I’m not going home.” Sherlock sneered over his shoulder.

Lestrade followed Sherlock as he fled.

“Mycroft asked me to keep you safe,” Lestrade told him, catching up.

Sherlock stopped. “I’m not going on a case, so don’t bother.”

“Then where are you going?”

Sherlock growled in frustration and threw up his hands. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll just sit under a bridge and shoot up.”

“Jesus, Sherlock.” Lestrade breathed, horrified.

“I’m joking. Clearly.” Sherlock said, exasperated. “Go finish your job, I need to clear my head. I’ll be in touch soon.”

Sherlock left Lestrade behind. When he made it out on to the street, Sherlock pulled out his phone and called his dealer, fully intending to put this night, and Emily, behind him. Once he was high, Sherlock wouldn’t remember the lead weight in his gut, the sickening knowledge that Lestrade was correct.

This had been a bad day and Sherlock didn’t know where it all went wrong. Where did he go wrong?

\--

Everything about that day felt wrong. It started with heavy rain pelting against on the bedroom window and John waking up, suddenly, sprawled across the bed alone. He jolted upwards, his hands prying at his chest where a sharp bolt of panic hit painfully.

John frantically looked around for a source but there was nothing there. The bed was empty, the room was empty, the apartment was quiet. Sebastian was absent and John’s heart thundered against his ribcage. John threw back the covers and stumbled out of bed, naked but for his boxers. He touched the ground and crumpled to a heap on the floor, his injured leg hotly thrumming, screaming in pain at the unprepared load. John pulled himself back to his feet, roughly rubbing his leg, angry that he had forgotten his injury. Another wave of anxiety and John was moving again. He wondered where Sebastian was, and if he was responsible for John’s debilitating fear.

He struggled over to the doorway into the living room, clutching to the wall for support, rubbing his sternum against the pain of his hammering heart.

The living room was empty, so was the kitchen.

“Sebastian?” John called out, his voice cracking.

The empty apartment gave no response.

Deep within him, in that place where his bond nestled, John felt a sense of lacking. It pulsed with emptiness and he instinctively knew his bondmate was absent. On any other day, John would relish such a rare moment of solitude, he lived for the brief pockets of freedom from Sebastian. Today, John could barely breathe with the force of the separation.

Even knowing it was pointless, some force compelled him to check the front door. His hindbrain telling him to search out his mate. He limped his way over to it and unsurprisingly found it locked. John growled and banged his fist on the door furiously. Something inside was urging him to leave, to get out, to find Sebastian. Danger, the voice said. He was in danger and only Sebastian could protect him, but the door locked and Sebastian wasn’t there and John couldn’t get out to find him and—

“Stop!” He cried.

John heaved a breath and slumped against the door, his forehead feeling hot against the wooden surface. He focused on breathing. He stamped down his thoughts. For a few moments at least, it seemed work; the fog in his head cleared and his heart rate seemed to slow. His stomach was still eating itself in a bundle of nerves but John was used that sensation, he had felt it almost every day since Sebastian took him.

“What’s wrong with me?” He muttered, rubbing his chest again.

John tried to think logically. He didn’t know what the feeling was but there was no source in the apartment. That meant it must have something to do with Sebastian and it couldn’t be a good thing, not when it left John feeling so wretched. He wondered if bondmates could share experiences of pain. Maybe that’s what this was. Could John be experiencing Sebastian’s pain? Pain seemed like a side-effect to what John was feeling but perhaps he was only experiencing an interpretation of his mate’s suffering.

The next thought hit John with cold dread in the pit of his stomach. What if Sebastian wasn’t in pain at all, what if this meant he was dead?  How would John escape? He would be stuck in this apartment until he starved.

 No.

John’s breath hitched. That would never happen; Moriarty wouldn’t leave him alive. John’s heartrate spiked again, he could hear his own blood pumping in his ears. Sebastian was his only defence against the madman and that meant Sebastian had to come back, he _had_ to. If Sebastian was killed, John would never have his chance for revenge and getting revenge was the only thing that mattered anymore. They needed to pay for what they did, they needed to suffer and John needed Sebastian to come back.

Oh, he just realised he was panicking again.

He gasped for air, adrenalin flooded his body, his fear notched up higher. John was floored by the intensity.

“God…” He moaned.

He slid to the ground, hiding his face in his knees, powerless to do anything but wait out the feeling. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, staring into the space between his knees in a trance-like state. When the feeling finally passed sometime later, John breathed a weary sigh of relief. There were tears in his eyes, he hadn’t realised that before. He wiped them away with his arm.

John blinked. At some point, it had gotten dark.

He glanced around, confused and bewildered. His brain felt sluggish, it was difficult to think. Slowly, awareness seeped back into his body and John realised he was shivering, still dressed in only his boxer shorts.

He stiffly trudged into the bedroom, turning on the lights as he went, and put on the first pair of tracksuit bottoms he could find. Pulling out a hoodie from the bottom of the wardrobe, he squirrelled into it. Only when the material swallowed his body, did he realise the garment belonged to Sebastian. John inhaled and almost moaned at the relief Sebastian’s scent brought him. For the first time that day, John’s body sagged with the sudden sense of calm. Though his gut reaction was to rip off the hoodie, John didn’t have any energy left to fight and gave into his omegan instinct. Though he was ashamed and embarrassed by his actions he reasoned that he would, at least, be able to function.

Now that he felt he could, John knew he had to start looking after himself. He hadn’t eaten yet and while his stomach churned at the thought of food, he couldn’t afford to starve himself. He had already lost so much weight already.

Sebastian kept his kitchen well stocked but mostly every cabinet was closed with a padlock. John wasn’t trusted with anything that could be used to hurt either of them. There was even a lock on the hob cover in case John tried to set the place on fire—again.

The only appliance John was permitted to use was the microwave which narrowed his meal options when Sebastian was out of the house. At that moment, Pot Noodle was the only dish John was able to make. Hardly a great meal at the best of times, cooked with water heated in a microwave made for a particularly unsatisfactory experience. Still, John ate it, standing over the counter, staring into space. He wouldn’t have minded a cup of tea but a few months ago John had flung a teacup at Sebastian in a fit of rage and now he was only allowed access to ceramics and the kettle under supervision.

Once he finished his paltry meal, John took a plastic cup of tap water into the living room. He turned on the television and lay down on the couch. Feeling lethargic and frustrated and scared and nervous, John barely paid attention to the screen as images flashed on and off. At some point, the news headlines of the day popped up on screen and a newsreader announced the day’s events.

When John was first kidnapped, he watched the news religiously, fanatically, barely breathing and desperately hoping for some sign that someone knew he was missing. Sebastian had laughed, knowing without being told of John’s hopes. Sebastian said he was being foolish; John had been missing long before they had bonded, no one would ever know where he was. This was all very clear to John, he didn’t need Sebastian to tell him. It didn’t make it any easier to hear though. Sometimes, when the bond pulled him towards his captor, he thought of that moment and he managed to hate Sebastian just a little bit more. John never watched the news anymore. There was no point and the crushing disappointment that stuck with him afterwards didn’t seem worth it.

_“…was discovered in the public toilets in Victoria Station. Police are treating this as suspicious.”_

John’s eyes flickered up to the screen in time to see two coroners wheeling out a body bag on a gurney from the narrow public toilet door.

_“Police are calling for anyone with any information to step forward.”_

The picture changed to a close-up of a man’s face. The text on the bottom-right of the screen revealed the man’s name as Detective-Inspector Lestrade. _“Yes, that’s right.”_ He was saying on screen. _“Any information at all may be valuable. We just want to know what has happened here so we can see justice done. If you’ve seen anything suspicious or know anything about the man in the CCTV footage please get in touch with us on the number below. Victoria station sees two-hundred thousand people a day. Someone must have seen something. If you have any information at all, please, please come forward. Thank you.”_

While the detective-inspector was speaking, the CCTV footage popped up on screen. It showed a man suspiciously trailing the victim into the bathroom. It was only a grainy image and very difficult to see but when they paused the footage, John stopped breathing. Plain as day; that was Sebastian Moran. John sat up.

The presenter appeared on screen again. _“Yes,”_ she said, _“that number once more is on the bottom of the screen.”_

John dived for the post-it note and pen on the table. He quickly copied the number on screen before it disappeared. The next story began and John looked down at what he had written. He shook his head, huffing. He was an idiot; he couldn’t get access to a phone anyway, so what was the point? He tore off the piece of paper and studied it. John couldn’t be seen with this number. If Sebastian found it—even if he didn’t know it was a number for a police station—he would be at best suspicious. Realistically, Sebastian could kill him for it.

Paranoid now, John wondered what he was going to do with this piece of paper. He couldn’t throw it in the bin in case Sebastian saw it. He had no access to fire to burn it. He needed to rip it up and flush it down the toilet. Quickly John removed the following four post-it notes in case the indentation of his pen showed up on any of them.

Still, he hesitated. His thumb rubbed over the phone number thoughtfully, unwilling to give it up.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade…” John muttered. He didn’t have access to a phone, there was no point in keeping this number.  

He read the number aloud in the empty room. Pointless, really. He read it again. And again. And then once more. He closed his eyes and tried to remember it. He spent an hour committing the number to memory and then, with a deep breath, he ripped up the paper into the smallest pieces he could manage. In the bathroom he sat on the side of the tub, dropping small bits of paper into the toilet and flushing it down with toilet roll until the evidence was gone.

John didn’t have access to a phone, but maybe one day he would. He didn’t know how he was going to get revenge but he might need help. Surely Detective-Inspector Lestrade wouldn’t have made a public plea for information on Sebastian if he was on Moriarty’s payroll. John hoped so, it gave him hope to think that there were people outside of Moriarty’s sphere of influence.

He muttered the number under his breath, keeping it in his mind, ensuring that he wouldn’t forget. He continued to recite the number in his head as he returned back to the living room. John sighed deeply. Initially, this tiny act of rebellion seemed cathartic. Although it didn’t take away the feelings of dread that had been with him all day, he felt satisfied that he had managed to do something behind Sebastian’s back. The relief from his tiny victory could only last so long though, and soon, John’s feelings soured. He had done something stupidly dangerous today.  His life would be threatened if he was ever found out and where had it gotten him?

He found himself looking around the room, bored, frustrated and strangely agitated. This was John’s life. This was it. The bathroom, the bedroom, the living room, the kitchen. This was his world now. He hadn’t achieved anything today, he was only fooling himself. John suddenly felt like he was going to die in this place. It may take years but how was he ever going to get away from Sebastian? No policeman would fix this. Especially not when the thought of leaving Sebastian was causing him physical pain all of a sudden. He almost started to panic once more when he thought about never seeing his mate again. At least the comforting scent from Sebastian’s hoodie kept him from going over the edge. John thought he must be going crazy, thinking like that. Was he going crazy? If he wasn’t already, it was certainly only a matter of time.

Anger smouldered beneath the surface. Damn Sebastian, he had taken everything from him. He had violated every part of his life, taken his freedom, his body, his bond. He even took his future and now he was taking his mind. Damn him.

No.

John stopped himself. He couldn’t think like that. It wouldn’t help him.

Trying to suppress his thoughts and ignore his feelings, John looked at the clock on the television. He was surprised by how late into the night it was now. On a normal day, John would probably already be getting ready to sleep. He turned off the TV with a sigh. He hadn’t done anything today, but he was exhausted. He didn’t want to go to bed; he was full of a bubbling frustration that seemed to be left over from earlier, but there was nothing else to do.

He had just moved around the couch when the sound of the front door unlocking arrested his movements. Sebastian appeared in the doorway, looking pleased to see him. He gave a toothy grin as he threw his duffle bag onto the floor and stepped passed, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Honey, I’m home!” He announced, approaching John.

Sebastian’s blasé attitude did little to quell the simmering anger John had been trying to ignore within himself. He clenched his jaw, irritated by the alpha’s cheerfulness when John had been suffering alone all day. He had to steady himself to avoid saying something he’d regret. He was seriously considering turning on his heel and walking away when he saw Sebastian’s condition.

“You’re hurt.” John said, shocked, when his eyes fell on his mate’s split lip, bruised knuckles and forearm, bandaged with just a hint of red seeping through. “What happened?”

Sebastian shrugged off his concern. “Don’t worry about it. Just a scratch, love.”

John snarled. “Oh, well in that case, fuck you, Sebastian.”  The words just tumbled out before he had even registered them.

Sebastian flinched in surprise. He blinked slowly. “What—”

It was enough to set John off again with a violent flare of anger.

“No, actually,” John interrupted, taking a step forward and jabbing his finger at him viciously. “Fuck you! I saw your face on the news. You killed that man.”

Months of pent up rage and frustration got the better of him. Now he couldn’t stop it. He became vaguely aware that he was within punching distance of Sebastian and suddenly John was lunging at his mate, his right fist connecting against his cheek. Sebastian stumbled back, shock rendering him still. John followed up with a left fist to the gut. From then, John threw his fists against the alpha’s body, not really even punching anymore.

“You bastard!” John spit out. “I was waiting for you. And you were gone. You could have been killed, you stupid idiot! I couldn’t feel you through the bond. I didn’t know what was going on.”

John wasn’t sure if he was making any sense; he was getting words out but they were coming out wrong. He had wanted to explain the stress and frustration at being dependent on another person and the lack of power he had in his own life. He wanted to communicate the fear of Moriarty lurking in the background, the terror that his survival based on Sebastian’s own. He wanted to scream at Sebastian that he couldn’t stay cooped up in an apartment for the rest of his life. But he couldn’t get his thoughts in order and all of a sudden, he realised that he didn’t care. His fury made him see red. John swiped wildly. Sebastian wasn’t responding, he was taking the abuse silently, watching John with guarded confusion, his arms raised to take the brunt of the attack.

Sebastian’s stillness only served to fuel John’s fury. He growled and threw his weight into his hits. He managed another three of four before he unintentionally made contact with the injury on Sebastian’s forearm. Sebastian hissed behind gritted teeth, backhanding John, sending him sprawling to the ground. John wheezed on the floor, holding his violently throbbing face, gasping and dazed.

Sebastian was standing over him, teeth bared and looking ready to attack. John’s anger crumbled and to his own mortification he began sobbing wretchedly, entire body shuddering. Sebastian straightened and observed his omega. His expression softened at John’s pain and he sighed. He kneeled down and snaked his arms around John’s middle, pulling him in close and resting his chin on the omega’s shoulder.

“There now, you’re alright.” He soothed

John shook his head, trying to clear it. “You can’t—you can’t...” His breath hitched.

“Shh, take a deep breath, little love and tell me what it is you think I can’t do.”

John felt unhinged, between his inner turmoil and Sebastian’s confusing lenience, the only thing that made sense were the strong arms around him. He sunk back into the embrace, finding some semblance of stability with the touch. John had to struggle to think about what he had been trying to say and why he had been so scared. An image of Moriarty flashed before his eyes and John’s terror returned. He started struggling against the unyielding arms. Sebastian held firm and waited him out patiently. John squirmed around to meet the alpha’s gaze, he needed to make sure Sebastian was listening to him.

“You can’t die.” John told him, needing Sebastian to comprehend the danger Moriarty posed. “If something happens to you—if you die, I—.”

John was shaking now, his whole body shivering as his grabbed Sebastian’s shirt to get some purchase. He tried to clear his head before continuing.

“Shh, I won’t.” Sebastian assured him, “I wouldn’t let anything bad happen. It’s okay, omega; I’m strong, the strongest there is. Nothing’s going to get me.”

He gently guided John’s head closer towards his neck where his scent was strongest. John instinctively nuzzled the skin there and Sebastian returned the gesture.

The alpha’s scent and the unwavering embrace had the desired effect and John’s body grew heavy and limp. Sebastian’s scent was full of confidence and calmness. He was a pillar of strength in that moment. Somewhere in his scent, John could identify Sebastian’s fatigue and pain but it was buried deep and John had no real desire to explore any further. He imagined his own scent could not have been pleasant, stinking of fear, anger and turmoil but John didn’t care much about that either.

Sebastian gently stroked John’s back using sure, slow movements which were more comforting than he would ever admit.

“You’re all jumbled, omega, I could feel it coming from you before I even opened the door.” Sebastian muttered. He moved, laying John down on the carpeted floor. “It’s okay. A new bond can do that sometimes. It still hasn’t settled fully. I’ll help you through this.”

Covering John’s body with his own, Sebastian allowed his weight to settle on him. John couldn’t deny it was soothing. John grabbed his shirt, pulled Sebastian down for more pressure.

Sebastian quirked a grin and leaned in to claim his mate’s mouth. His lips were soft, undemanding, as gentle and soothing as it had been when he was stroking John’s back. John responded, deepening the kiss with desperation to feel that anchoring presence of the alpha. John clanked his teeth against Sebastian’s more than once. Confusingly, Sebastian didn’t allow it to escalate and instead he gently but firmly moved his hand over John’s neck and lifted his chin upwards.

John’s gaze was forced to the ceiling as his head was tilted back. He could feel Sebastian’s lips on his jaw and moving down his throat. Between kisses, Sebastian licked his flesh, stimulating the subcutaneous glands which sent a flood of warmth and calmness through his body. Sebastian moved down to the meat of John’s shoulder, mouthing the skin over the bonding mark. John shivered at the sensation and grabbed handfuls of Sebastian’s shirt, twisting and pulling it towards him, his body crying out for the alpha’s touch.

Sebastian huffed in amusement and sat back, placing his hands over John’s and moving them back onto the carpet above John’s head. He trailed his hands down John’s arms and ribs and slipped his fingers under the hoodie. He grinned in pleasure, recognising the garment as his own, and slide it up over John’s head. Then the fingers were back stroking John’s hips before divesting him of his trousers and underwear in one well-practiced movement.

John focused on Sebastian in time to see him divest his own clothing. Despite the hatred for the man, John couldn’t deny that he was the physical ideal of what alphas wanted aimed to be. If anything about this situation had been consensual, John would have never thought he was in the same league as a man like that. But this was not consensual and as Sebastian turned John onto his stomach, John knew the only thing that had him feeling an ounce of desire for the man was hormones and a bond. Knowing this didn’t make his current desire and wanton groans any easier to his own ears as Sebastian lowered himself against his back.

John’s arousal eased the alpha’s entrance and he arched into Sebastian’s touch. Sebastian’s body covered his completely. Cheek to cheek, breathing in the same air, they moved together. The movements were slow and firm and calm just like everything in the exchange had been up to this point. John bowed into the sensations wanting to escalate the exchange but Sebastian’s immovable bulk limited his movement. John tried to stretch his arms but Sebastian held his hands. He was caged by the alpha. Every move he made to take control, Sebastian easily stopped him. He wanted to fight it, to fight the feeling of helplessness that came from the restriction but he couldn’t and he sagged into Sebastian’s hold. He was too tired to do anything but let the man take what he wanted, as he wanted it. John stared miserably at the floor resigning himself to merely enduring the rest of this interaction but startled in surprise when Sebastian’s chest rumbled with a deep purr of satisfaction.

“That’s it, little love.” Sebastian praised with a throaty voice. “Submit to me and I’ll make you feel good.”

The hold on John’s arms lifted. Sebastian rearranged his weight so that he could run his hands up and down the length of John’s body. They were everywhere, his nipples, his stomach, his cock and when John moved Sebastian moved with him. When John panted and snarled in ripples of desire Sebastian answered him with pleasured sounds of his own.

Sebastian nipped at his shoulders and near his ear. He nuzzled into John’s hair panting hard as he thrust with firmer strokes. John was lost in the sensation. Between his own forced submission and the intense feelings from earlier he was emotionally overwrought and mentally drained. The only way to channel that energy was to push back harder, to turn his own face and snap at Sebastian’s face with his teeth.

Sebastian leaned back on his knees, pulling John backwards with him. His hands roved up and down John’s chest. John saw sparks with the new angle. He reached behind him and locked his arms around Sebastian’s neck, arching and squirming to bring himself over the edge.

The speed picked up and Sebastian lost his rhythm. He grabbed John’s cock and stroked.  Soon after, Sebastian came with a roar. It sent John over the edge and he reached his own glorious completion.

Together they panted and gasped, Sebastian riding out the last of the sensations with a few more lazy thrusts while they gained back their breath. Sebastian lowered them both back to the ground. His arms were still around John as they lay on the carpet. Somehow the hold felt more comforting than before. John felt secure, not caged. Sebastian hooked his leg over John’s to keep them close and lazily licked the mating bond.

“Feeling better?” Sebastian asked, voice soft.

“Yeah.” John admitted in a whisper. He felt completely relaxed, almost purged from the feelings of earlier. His body was boneless and he could have been floating if not for the arms around him.

Sebastian hummed in satisfaction. “Good. There’s no shame in letting me take care of you. I’ve tried to give you your space but that’s not always what’s best for a new bond. It can mess with your emotions, you can pick up on your bondmate’s feelings but it warps them with your own. I’ve heard about it. Pretty scary stuff. Can’t blame you for being afraid.”

John didn’t speak, knowing nothing he could say would make a difference and Sebastian wasn’t really looking for a conversation anyway. This was just the typical mindless post-coital babble that John was used to. Sebastian was right though; the bond had been driving him crazy. He must have been picking up on Sebastian’s adrenalin and survival instincts while he was on the job but the fear and anxiety was John’s own multiplied by a hundred.

Sebastian had managed to stop it, to press the reset button on their bond. The fact that he needed to though, meant that the bond was obviously still unstable and John might have to go through it again. While the experience had not been pleasant, instead of being afraid, John felt relieved. If the bond still hadn’t become stable, John still might still be able to break it. If he could get away he might have a chance, just a small chance, but a chance nonetheless. He may never be fully rid of the disgusting thing but the bond could shrivel away to nothing and John would be able to live a normal life.

All he needed to do was get away.

John lay quietly with his thoughts, feeling cared for and secure because of Sebastian’s affections and feeling so painfully lonely. They stayed there for some time until Sebastian grew bored with laying on the hard ground. He dragged John and himself off of the floor.

“Let’s move to the bed, we’ll both be more comfortable there.” Sebastian said as he bundled John up into his arms.

In the bedroom, Sebastian pulled the covers down the bed and placed John gently on the sheets before following to lie down next to him. Sebastian lay on his back and pulled John to lie on top of his chest, covering them both up with the sheets. John let out a quiet, shaky breath, settling neatly on his alpha’s chest.

Sebastian carded his fingers though John’s hair lazily. After some time had passed, John turned his head to look at Sebastian.

“Sebastian?” John said quietly, fearful of what he was about to say.

“Hmm?” Sebastian replied, quirking a brow in questioning.

John took a breath before speaking to steady himself. “I’m sorry… about earlier.”

Sebastian’s lips rose. “Don’t fret about it.” He pat John’s cheek reassuringly before travelling to the back of his neck, guiding John’s head back to his chest.

John gave a curt nod and licked his lips before acquiescing to the touch.  

“It’s just the bond,” Sebastian assured him.

But it wasn’t just the bond. John knew that. If he had any sense he would just stop talking and let Sebastian enjoy the moment. Too bad he could never let things go.

“It’s not though, just the bond,” John said quietly.

He felt Sebastian’s hand go stiff on his neck.

“I’m going crazy locked up here on my own all day, Sebastian.” John tried to sound as reasonable as he could. He lifted his head to monitor Sebastian’s expression.

Steely wasn’t the word. Sebastian’s face had frozen in stony neutral. John felt a spike of anxiety and he quickly spoke again. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I need to be able to go outside once in a while.”

“You tried to run away last time,” Sebastian said evenly.

His voice still wasn’t furious so John kept speaking, trying to reason with his alpha.

He nodded quickly. “And that was stupid. I was scared. I didn’t know you, I didn’t know how well you’d look after me.” Sebastian almost looked pleased. John continued. “I don’t need to leave the house all the time—even if it’s just once a week to get the shopping or something. I just…I’d just like to be able to walk down the street with you.”

The words almost made his sick but John’s determination was firm. John may be a slave to this bond but he was beginning to realise that Sebastian was vulnerable too. John knew he would have to use that to his advantage. He moved closer to Sebastian and nuzzled his cheek, feigning affection. Sebastian fell for it. His whole body relaxed and the petting resumed. Sebastian huffed. John lay back down, eyes flickering up to catch a glimpse of the alpha’s mood. His expression had softened and he appeared thoughtful.

He didn’t speak immediately. “I’ll consider it.” He said eventually.

John smiled, truly, for the first time since he could remember. He hid his face in his mate’s chest. “Thank you.” He said quietly.

Sebastian’s chest rumbled with pleasure. He grabbed John and flipped them over so he was kneeling over the omega. He claimed John’s lips with a heated kiss.

After a moment’s hesitation, John kissed back relishing for once in his first real victory since bonding with Sebastian. He just had to be smart about it; play the bond to his advantage and wait for his opportunity to escape. In his head, John recited the number for Detective Inspector Lestrade again. He wondered where the nearest pay phone might be.


End file.
